


The Way We Fall Apart

by IWillBeYourPet



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Arkham Asylum, Bottom Oswald Cobblepot, Broken Oswald, Bullying, Crying, Dark, Dom/sub, Dominance, Fuck Or Die, Humiliation, M/M, Manipulation, Oral Sex, Oswald Whump, Please do not copy or translate, Possessive/Protective Riddler, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Prison Sex, Public Humiliation, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Sex, Stockholm Syndrome, Submissive Oswald, This one is going to be rough, Top Jerome Valeska, Unhealthy Relationships, Violence, eventually, season 4
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:47:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 20
Words: 59,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24615517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IWillBeYourPet/pseuds/IWillBeYourPet
Summary: **All WIPs on temp hiatus**Oswald is back in Arkham.  No friends, no empire, no reason to keep fighting.  He just wants to be left alone, to wallow in his misery.  It isn't like it could get any worse.Except, this is Gotham, and it could always be worse.Jerome Valeska has taken an interest in him, and the man seems like he won't settle for anything less than owning every piece of Oswald until he has nothing left for himself.Oswald doesn't know if he can fight it, and he's not even sure he wants to.This story is gonna be dark, and not very nice.  Eventually there will be some Riddler/Oswald but not for awhile, and not the focus of the story.Please do not post to other sites, copy or translate this work.
Relationships: Oswald Cobblepot/Edward Nygma, Oswald Cobblepot/Jerome Valeska
Comments: 144
Kudos: 303





	1. Chapter 1

Oswald screamed about his revenge for 2 days straight. Or for two days as best as he could guess, it was hard to keep track of time. He refused to go to meals, to let anyone near him, and finally stopped when he lost his voice. He spent the next day after that crying. He still refused to leave his cell and he wasn’t trying to prove a point. He just couldn’t do it anymore.

He was curled up in the corner of his cell when there was noise outside of it, and he grabbed his pillow to hold in front of him, like that would do anything. The door opened and he expected a guard but there was only one man standing there and he wasn’t in a uniform. The man scanned the cell until he found him and moved forward.

“Oswald Cobblepot, I am Dr. Dalman. I am the main psychiatrist here.” The man looked at the clipboard in his hand and Oswald lowered the pillow, mouth suddenly dry.

His throat was still sore, voice still gone so he nodded. The man gave him a smile but there was nothing nice about it. “It says here you aren’t going to meals. That is not acceptable Mr. Cobblepot. I know you have been here before, you know how this works, yes?”

The tears were coming again and he nodded. He didn’t want to be dragged to meals and he didn’t want to be force fed. After his therapy sessions the first time he hadn’t ever been hungry and when he had continued not to eat they had taken extreme measures. 

“Very good. So you will go to dinner tonight, yes?” The man waited until he nodded before he tucked the clipboard under his arm. “Wonderful. I will schedule you tomorrow for a one on one, and we can begin your therapy sessions.”

“Therapy?” His voice was barely a whisper, breaking in the middle of the word. His stomach twisted and he curled in even smaller.

“Of course Oswald, that is what you are here for. To get better. Right now acting like this you don’t seem to be getting better, do you? We don’t have the same… techniques available to us that the former professor Strange had, but we still have our ways.”

Oswald found himself rocking forward on to his knees, voice small and hoarse, “But if I behave, no therapy?”

“I’m glad we understand each other Mr. Cobblepot.”

The man gave him a small smile before he left the cell, door swinging shut behind him. He knew they didn’t have that contraption, he had taken it himself and after he tortured Strange with it he had destroyed it. They couldn’t have it. All the logic in the world didn’t keep him from shaking in the corner, overwhelmed. He wasn’t going to make it through this.

At dinner time he obediently moved out of his cell, shuffling there with his head down, hunching his shoulders when someone nudged him.

He got the sense of someone standing too close next to him, and with a timid glance through the fringe of his hair he knew it was the man in the cell next to him. The man looked him up and down before he chuckled, “Don’t think you’re ready yet.” And then he moved on.

Oswald didn’t know what that meant, didn’t want to know, he was just relieved that he was left alone. 

He got his food and sat at the first table that had an empty spot, not looking at anyone around him. He wasn’t hungry but he forced himself to eat something in case they were watching. Who was he kidding, of course they were watching. He would do anything to have no more therapy sessions. 

“You have a visitor.”

Oswald stared blankly at the guard. “What?”

“Visitor, Cobblepot. Come on.”

There wasn’t anyone he could imagine would come to see him. Not for anything good and he wanted to refuse but didn’t want to seem like he wasn’t being compliant. He’d only had one therapy session - a warning - but it was enough. Only been in Arkham for a week and he was already broken.

They reached a gate and there was a buzz and the gate swung open and his eyes landed on Victor Zsasz sitting at the little table. He should be afraid, but he wasn’t. He didn’t think the man was there to kill him, but even if he was, he wasn’t sure he’d fight it. 

He only swallowed hard and dropped his eyes, moving to sit in the other chair. “Zsasz.”

“Heya Boss.” Victor put his hand over his mouth, “Whoops. Guess that isn’t true anymore.”

“Why are you here?”

Zsasz leaned forward, “What do I usually show up to do?”

“Then kill me.” He stared down at the table, refusing to look up at Victor. 

“Are you still mad at me? Holding on to that isn’t healthy you know.”

“What do you want?”

“Just delivering a little message from you - know - who.”

When Victor worked for him that chipper glee in his words, especially when he was telling people he was going to kill them, always cheered him up. Now it made him clench his jaw and he finally looked up and snarled out, “I will kill you.”

“Yup, you’re still mad.” Zsasz looked around the room, “You probably won’t do it from in here. And you’re gonna want to stay in here.”

“Is that a threat?”

Victor shrugged, “Not exactly against you. But if you do break out…” He held his hand up at about the height of a child, “More of a threat against that one.”

Oswald choked on a response because they had him and they knew it. They knew what he would do for the kid and he had no options. Zsasz’s smile got wider, “See, you get it.”

Oswald closed his eyes and shoved to his feet. He didn’t need to listen to anymore of this, yea he got it. He turned his back to Victor and waited for a guard to let him out. He wasn’t going to say anything else, but he’d never been good at controlling his emotions and snapped out, “Why did you betray me?” He wanted it to sound stronger but the words wobbled and he hated it.

“Honestly I liked ya, boss. But at the end of the day, you just aren’t a Falcone.” It hurt. It had no right to, but it still hurt. 

There was no more talking, just the shuffle of noise behind him as Zsasz left and then a guard brought him back to his cell. 

So that was it. Even if he somehow had the means or help to escape, he still couldn’t. He was trapped here, he might as well stop fighting it. This was his home now.

Giving in was easier than it should have been. 

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

“Old buddy, old friend.”

Oswald stumbled as someone threw an arm around his shoulders, tightening it dangerously when he tried to pull away. He glanced sideways at Jerome before he lowered his eyes. He didn’t say anything, he found the best way to avoid problems was just to keep quiet, even if it went against everything in him. 

“Still? Oswald.” He could see Jerome shaking his head, “I’ve given you space. You don’t talk to me at night, you don’t look at me, I’m going to start to think that we aren’t friends.”

With some effort Oswald lifted his gaze to look at Jerome just for a moment before it skittered back to the floor. “Hello, Jerome.”

He couldn’t see the man’s reaction but he could feel him rolling his eyes, “Such a compliant little bird, aren’t you?”

Oswald was smart enough to know that it wasn’t what Jerome wanted. He didn’t have anything else to offer though. A month in Arkham and he had settled quietly into a routine, one that was full of wallowing and tears and regrets. 

Jerome let go of him when they reached the food line and Oswald hoped that maybe it would be it. Over the last few weeks the man had made it known that he had an interest in him, but it had been small things. A small touch here, a few words there. Nothing that forceful, and he knew what the man was actually capable of, so he wasn’t sure what he was doing. He hadn’t asked anything from him, he seemed to be waiting.

Oswald got his food and stepped away from the line and had a moment of relief that it seemed to be all Jerome was going to do. That was all it lasted though, suddenly there was a quick movement and his tray was knocked out of his hands, clanging to the floor with food everywhere. 

A mocking grin was sent his way as Jerome headed towards his normal side of the cafeteria and Oswald sighed as he looked at the mess. He carefully stepped over it and moved to a table, sliding into a seat without a tray.

It wasn’t like he was hungry anyways, he was never hungry, so he just rested his chin on his hand and stared at the table. 

“Cobblepot?”

He lifted his head to look at the guard and followed their gaze to the mess on the floor and back, “Yes?”

“Is this your doing?”

He huffed out a breath because there was no answer that would help him. He couldn’t say it had been Jerome, he couldn’t say that he had done it. He finally stared back down at the table, “It was an accident.”

A hand grabbed the back of his shirt, yanking him off the bench hard enough that he sprawled on the floor as they stood over him. Embarrassingly enough he felt his breathing speed up, pressure behind his eyes that said he might cry.

“Clean it up.”

He nodded because what else could he do, and tried to push to his feet, when the guard kicked out to knock him back down. “You can stay on the ground to do it.”

He could feel a tear slide down his cheek and he nodded, numb, as he pushed to his hands and knees but before he could do anything there was an inmate standing in the way, and he glanced up, mouth going dry at Jerome standing there.

The man was looking at the guard though, not him, and shaking his head. Oswald eased back on his haunches, unsure what was going on. 

There were no words exchanged but the guard backed down, tucking tail and heading away, and Jerome watched him for a moment before he turned back to Oswald, reaching down a hand to help him up. He didn’t want to take it and yet he did as Jerome easily pulled him to his feet. He didn't know if he should thank him for getting rid of the guard, or stopping what was happening but the look on Jerome’s face made the words stick in his throat.

Jerome didn’t let go of his hand and pulled him close, leaning down almost close enough to touch before he abruptly let him go. “I’m the only one that will be making you crawl, Oswald.” He patted his cheek, a mockery of friendliness, and continued in the direction he had been heading before the guard had started with Oswald. 

The words stuck with him though, and he swiped at his face with his arm, fear making his insides twist. He felt like it was hard to breathe. He had hoped the man would get bored with him and move on but his words told him that isn’t what was going to happen. All he wanted was to be left alone. 

The week following the instance Oswald was on high alert, waiting for an attack. Fearful and twitching, but nothing came out of it. There were no casual touches, no one giving him grief, and he tried to settle back into the numb nothingness that would get him through.

Another week and he had faded back into the background. It was comforting in a way, even though he knew that he shouldn’t be content. Sometimes at night, when it was dark and lonely and cold he tried to remember what it was like to fight and it had been such a short time he should be able to remember, should be able to do it still, but it just wouldn’t come to him. 

He got his food and just off the line an inmate slammed into him, spilling his drink. The man smiled at him, mocking, challenging him to do something about it but he just ducked his head and limped to his table, setting down his tray. 

Staring hard enough at the table that he didn’t see anyone around him he startled when something hit him in the chest and fell to the table. His heart sank as he saw it, it would be impossible to not know who it belonged to, and he lifted his eyes to Jerome’s back. The man made a show of turning to look at him, grinning, and he quickly dropped his eyes.

No luck that Jerome would just let it go and the man moved to directly across from him and tilted his head at the table. “Is this seat taken?”

“If I say yes will it make a difference?” He didn’t know why he had to snark at the man, it rubbed him the wrong way that Jerome would pretend like he had any choice in this. His voice sounded small in his own ears, and he tried to settle down but could feel Jerome’s people moving around him. 

Jerome slid into the seat, trying to catch his eyes but he refused. There was nothing to be gained from it, he couldn’t hide that he was afraid. Couldn’t hide anything here. 

“You know, I’ve always been a fan. When you got locked up in this loony bin I expected great things. A murder or two, or maybe a prison break? But all you’ve done is mope for the last six weeks.” 

Oswald pulled together all the resolve he had left and put his hands on the table, shoving himself to his feet. He barely made it out of the seat when hands grabbed his shoulders and roughly shoved him back down, making him huff out a panicked breath. He tried to focus on what Jerome and said and thought he might have figured out what the man was aiming for, “You must know that I cannot escape.”

“Why?”

He got the sense that the man didn’t really care, that it wasn’t what he was after, and he felt like he was being mocked. It's what made him steel himself and snap, “None of your business.”

Jerome’s mouth quirked like he had been hoping for that answer and nodded to the man behind him and there were hands digging into the pressure points in his shoulders, and he tried to withstand it but what was the point. There would only be more hurt, there was no one to swoop in here and save him, so he whimpered out, “Because Sofia Falcone is holding someone important to me captive and if I escape she will kill them.”

The man rolled his eyes and leaned back, clearly he had been hoping for something else. “Wow, what a boring story.” The way he said the word made Oswald’s hair stand up on the back of his neck, all his instincts telling him that there was  _ danger _ . “If there is one thing I can’t stand it’s someone boring. The last person that bored me was Dietrich.”

Jerome paused, waiting for Oswald to glance at the man, making sure that his threat was understood before he continued. “I had to sneak into his shock therapy session and boost the juice. Now he pees himself 10 times a day and sometimes … poos himself.”

Oswald wanted to hunch his shoulders but the grip didn’t let him. He was still staring at the man and he realized there were worst things that could happen besides getting knocked around. He could end up a vegetable like that, could end up destroyed in ways he didn’t even know existed and he felt sick to his stomach. 

He met Jerome’s eyes and knew the fear was there for anyone that cared to look. And oh, Jerome looked like he did. He swallowed hard and wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do, if he was supposed to beg or simper or more likely supposed to threaten him, but he just looked away and answered softly, “Well that’s very sad.”

The man made a noise that sounded like a growl as he pushed to his feet and moved around the table, waving off his man so he could take his place behind Oswald, grabbing his shoulders for a moment before he sat sideways on the bench next to him. Body too close, his legs bracketing Oswald, making him hunch in on himself. 

One hand landed on Oswald’s thigh, gripping it hard enough to make him wince. “I’m going to cure you of this attitude, Oswald.” He loosened his grip to slide his hand up his thigh and Oswald tried to back away but one of his men was behind him, keeping him in place. So instead he tried to grab Jerome’s hand but his arms were grabbed and pinned behind his back. 

“Stop, please.” Words were all he had to defend himself and he doubted that would be enough. 

Jerome’s hand stopped on his upper thigh though, watching Oswald squirm. “ I’m going to find that entertaining guy that I know is inside of you. And when I do, ohhhh,” For just a moment his hand slid up the last bit, cupping Oswald over his pants and then shoved to his feet. “We are going to have so much fun together.”

He snagged Oswald’s jello off his tray, laughing as him and his men walked away leaving Oswald frozen in place. He suddenly had an idea of what the man was after and he was terrified. He had never been touched by anyone like that, and felt sick to his stomach at how helpless he was. 

His eyes followed Jerome until the man glanced back at him and winked. He scrambled to his feet, heading out of the room back towards his cell. He just had to get away from Jerome, had to get somewhere safe. Except there was nowhere safe, not in Arkham. 


	3. Chapter 3

“Pengy, why don’t you come over here.”

Oswald curled up in the corner of his bed, holding the pillow in his lap, and glanced towards the grate on the other side of his room. He couldn’t see Jerome but he could see a shadow that said the man was definitely standing there.

“I am talking to you, you know.” 

Oswald rested his chin on the pillow and still said nothing and there was a deep sigh from the other side that made him tense up.

“Either come chat with me over here, or I’m going to come over there. Your choice.”

Oswald glanced at the door to his cell and wasn’t sure if it was a bluff or not. The man did seem to have the guards under his thumb and he finally set the pillow down and slunk across the room, sitting in front of the grate. 

“That’s a good boy.”

“What do you want?” His voice was hoarse, thick, like he was going to cry. He spent so much time doing that it was hard to tell the difference anymore. 

“Why so serious, Pengy. If I didn’t know better I would really start to think that you don’t want to be my friend.”

“You don’t want to be my friend.”

There was a soft laugh from the other side, somehow more unsettling than the loud over the top one. “What would make you say that?” Oswald shifted but didn’t say anything and Jerome continued, “I try to sit with you at lunch, I didn’t let that guard mess with you, it sounds like I am trying to be your friend, Oswald.”

Oswald pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around his legs. He wished he was just a bit dumber and could believe those words. He wanted to, because it would be  _ nice _ to have a friend, but he’d been down this road. He’d been hurt and betrayed and used enough times to know that everyone had a plot. A motive. 

“What do you want from me?”

“What are you willing to give me?”

Oswald choked on what he was going to say, impossible to miss the threat in those words. He had the feeling that no answer he gave would be good enough and he found himself shaking his head even though Jerome couldn’t see it. “Please…”

“Something you haven’t ever given to anyone else, maybe?” There was mocking in the words and Oswald let out a small whine, trying to sink into denial of what it meant. There was a tsking sound when he said nothing and Jerome was talking again, “You’re shy, that’s okay little bird. We’ll get there. For now, let’s just settle for a laugh.”

“A laugh?” He didn’t want to respond to him, encourage him, but it hadn’t been what he expected and the words slipped out before he could stop them.

“A laugh. You’ll see.”

He stayed there after he heard Jerome move away, he just couldn’t bring himself to move. He wasn’t sure how long he stayed there but when he finally pushed to his feet his leg ached and he whimpered, limping over to the bed and curling up on it. 

He stared at the ceiling, unable to sleep, too many thoughts going through his head. He hugged the pillow close and pressed his face into it, using it to muffle as he cried. He tried to think of anyone,  _ anyone _ that could help him but he came up with nothing. Everyone hated him. 

Oswald was exhausted as he shuffled along, he had finally slept but it had been a fitful sleep. Nightmares, but he couldn’t remember of what. But he had woke up uneasy. He was looking down at his feet and was caught off guard when two inmates grabbed him and dragged him down a side hallway. “No, no no!” The guard hesitated for a moment but then kept walking like he hadn’t seen anything and frantically Oswald kicked and flailed, he knew he had to get away. 

“Shut your beak.” The grip on him tightened until he gasped in pain and something was shoved over his head so he couldn’t see. Couldn’t defend himself.

He was shoved down on something metal, muttering to himself, “No..no...no.” There were no more arms holding him down and he scrambled to his feet, pulling the bag off his head, and found himself standing on a metal table in the middle of a room full of people. Jerome was sitting in the middle of the group, like a king on a throne, grinning at him. “What do you want?” He glanced at the people standing around the table, trying to decide if he could make it off it with any success before he centered on Jerome.

“I told you, Pengy. I’m gonna cure you of this sad sack mopey act. And the best cure is the laughing cure. We talked about this last night.” He voice dropped to a cold threat, “Make me laugh.”

Around him there was a chant but he was too scared to pay attention to what they were saying, could only stare at Jerome with wide eyes. He hated to feel so powerless, face flushing at being put on display like this. Because he knew that’s what was happening.

“So what’ll you be performing? Uh, contortionism? Juggling act? A tight five? Oh, what’s that? You want to do a clown dance? Wonderful.”

Jerome looked behind him to the costume they were holding up and bile rose in his throat. He hadn’t thought he had any fight but he snarled out, “I will not.” He had never handled humiliation well. He could take a beating, he’d had enough of them, but his coping for something like this wasn’t up to par. A blush moved up his face, and he clenched his jaw.

The man gave him a mock confused look, “Huh? You picked it Pengy, what do you mean you won’t?” A tilt of his head and they were moving towards him with the costume.

Hands grabbed at him and he tried to push them off, tried to fight but there were too many of them and he was held down. Panic made him pant, gasping in panicked puffs of air and as soon as the hands were off him he scrambled back to his feet, cringing as the shoes he was wearing squeaked. He looked down at himself, the stupid outfit, the red bow and huffed out a disgruntled sound. 

The look on Jerome’s face was almost fond as he waved at him, “In your own time.”

Oswald’s eyes darted around the room and he didn’t want to give them the satisfaction but he could feel the tears pressing against his eyes, could feel himself quickly losing control of his emotions. Not like that was anything new. 

He thought that maybe he could reason with Jerome, and he clearly must be desperate to think that anything would get through to that psychopath. “You have no idea how I’ve suffered. The betrayals I’ve endured.” It wasn’t coming out like he had hoped, he had meant to make a great defense for himself. Instead he sounded small, scared. Pathetic. “Just… just leave me alone.” He couldn’t help it as he sobbed. “Leave me alone.”

“Cut!” He sniffled as he watched Jerome rub his face like he was getting a headache and the man moved to his feet. “Oswald, Oswald, Oswald.” He tried to make himself small, avoiding eye contact as Jerome crowded him. “You are trapped in a prison. In here.” Jerome had reached up to shove a finger against his head, and it didn’t hurt but he still whined, jerking his head away when Jerome did it again. “And I’m offering you the key. So… dance.”

As soon as the man stepped back the people around him were poking him with sticks, making him stumble and slip, trying to strike back at them.

“Now we’re talking. I can feel the funny coming.” Everyone was laughing and it was overwhelming. “Here it comes! Here comes the funny!” He focused on Jerome and all rational thoughts slipped out of his head as he screamed, launching off the table with the only intent to wipe that smile off his face. He was nearly to him when all of a sudden he was on the ground, dizzy and disoriented, mouth full of blood. Jerome looked down at him, “Okay, maybe not.”

Jerome crouched down next to him and cupped the side of his face, giving him something to focus on through the ringing in his head. “Fred Astaire you are not.” The other inmates closed in on him and he flinched away, but Jerome waved them off. “We’ll try again tomorrow.” He looked up at the room, “Who’s next?”

Jerome stood up and gave him a light kick to his side, not enough to hurt him, just enough to get his attention before the man stepped over him and sat back down. “Come on, come here.”

Oswald pushed to his hands and knees, swaying. He wasn’t sure what had hit him but he could feel the blood sliding down his cheek and knew that it was bad. He wasn’t sure where he was trying to go but he only made it a few clumsy feet away when someone grabbed the collar of his shirt and dragged him backwards. 

He was shoved so he sprawled at Jerome’s feet and the man met his eyes before he tapped the floor between his open legs with his shoe. “Right here little bird, come on.”

His head was ringing though, and his thoughts were foggy from the hit to the head, so he just blankly stared at him. With an annoyed sound Jerome grabbed him and manhandled him until he was sitting on the floor, his back resting against the edge of Jerome’s chair, one shoulder pressed against the man’s thigh. It was awkward, and he hated the thought of sitting at anyone's feet, but he just felt lucky that it was all that had happened. So he tried to settle there, to close off his mind and just exist.

Fingers pulled through his hair for just a moment to tilt his head back as Jerome eyed the cut on his cheek. “That’s not so bad,” He wiped at the blood on Oswald’s cheek with his sleeve before he let his head go and let him settle back into his spot. “There ya go. Comfortable?”

Oswald didn’t respond but Jerome still made an approving sound and patted his head before leaning back and waving a hand at the stage. “Who is next?”

When he tried to look down at the ground Jerome’s hand snaked around his head to grab his jaw and tilt his head up, “Pay attention Ozzie, you might learn something.”

He nodded, mumbled out, “Okay.”

A thumb stroked his cheek, close enough to the cut to make him flinch and then was gone. He kept his eyes on the stage as he watched more people perform. 

Try again tomorrow, Jerome had said. He glanced up at the man and Jerome noticed, giving him a grin before his eyes went back up to the stage. It didn’t take him long to realize the ones that displeased Jerome were punished by being beaten half to death and he realized that for whatever reason Jerome was treating him differently, and he was sure that he should be worried. Sure, it meant he hadn’t gotten a beating. But he couldn’t help but think, no, he couldn’t help but  _ know _ that meant something worse was in store for him. 

Exhausted and still reeling from the blow to the head he let his weight settle fully against Jerome, that was no point in fighting right now. Jerome’s hand dropped to his head, stroking fingers through his hair absently and Oswald didn’t complain. Better to conserve his strength, live to fight another day, and all that. He almost believed it.


	4. Chapter 4

When he was finally allowed to leave Jerome’s presence he tried to get a guard to let him go to medical, but he was only brought back to his cell and shoved inside. He cleaned his face the best he could, a gash across his cheek and a badly swollen black eye. Split lip. Nothing he hadn’t suffered before though. 

At least he had something to do, even if it was try to come up with a plan for the next day. If he was going to be forced to perform - if he was supposed to make Jerome laugh, he could try to think of something to do. 

Comedy wasn’t really his thing and it didn’t sit right in his stomach, the thought of performing like a trained animal. He thought about Mooney as she used to sit at her table, watching people compete to be acts at her club. It wasn’t too terrible if he thought about it like that. He was a survivor, he had been able to push down the indignation and rage at the way Maroni treated him for weeks. He could endure this too.

If he planned it now he could pick something that maybe wouldn’t be as humiliating, that maybe he could keep a little of his dignity about. It was a small comfort but at least it was something. 

By the time dinner came around he was feeling a little better, though he still waited long minutes once they were let out of their cells, waiting until Jerome had left so he wouldn’t be faced with him. In line he stared at his tray, at what passed as food these days, and sat at an empty table.

“Pengy!”

He cringed as his name was called across the room, and he really hated being called that. Jerome was waving at him from a table, patting the seat next to him, like they were best friends. He had a split moment to decide what he was going to do - sitting next to the man wouldn’t hurt anything, but despite that he found himself turning his attention back to his own table. Ignoring him. 

It only took a few minutes before someone was grabbing him by the arms, dragging him out of his seat as someone else grabbed his tray. He pulled on the grip, snarling threats, but the man was big and he was easily dragged over to Jerome’s table. Once he was there he huffed, and moved to sit on the bench but Jerome shook his head and pointed at the ground. “You had a chance to sit there, now you sit on the floor.” 

His tray was set down on the bench and he was shoved down to his knees, and when they let go of him he sunk down until he was sitting, glaring at the man that had pushed him. A hard slap across the face snapped his head to the side, forcing his attention back. At least it had been on the uninjured cheek. He whimpered and lifted a hand to it, eyes darting up to Jerome. The man waited until he was sure Oswald was looking and then pointed at his tray, “Eat your dinner.”

He crossed his arms over his chest, “No.” They could force him to the floor but they couldn’t make him eat the food, he would rather sit there and mope. 

Jerome didn’t look at him as he answered, “Last chance to eat, and then you will be eating it off the floor.” Jerome glanced around his table, a smirk on his face, “I don’t know why I coddle him so.”

There was laughter and Oswald scooted closer to the bench, reaching for his fork. He had no doubts that this was not a bluff and he shuddered at the thought of being held down and forced to eat off the floor. Like an animal. Like before once he complied Jerome dropped a hand to his head, patting it.

He didn’t eat much, besides that he wasn’t that hungry, or that the food wasn’t that appetizing, the current situation left him feeling sick. He picked at the food, but set his fork down when he’d only eaten a quarter of it. He didn’t know what to do with himself so he dropped his elbow on to the bench and rested his head on it, waiting until he was allowed to leave. 

“I thought I told you to eat your food.”

He startled, grabbing his fork automatically, but stuttered out, “I’m not hungry.”

Jerome shook his head, and moved in one swift motion, swinging his leg out from under the table and over Oswald so he was facing him again and he snatched the fork from Oswald’s hand. “This is more of that sad sack moping and I think we’ve all had enough of it.” He dipped the fork into the mushy macaroni and cheese and Oswald had just long enough to wonder how Jerome eating his food would make him eat more when he realized what he was doing.

“No.” He would not be fed like a child. He didn’t move away, he was smarter than that and knew how it would end but he did clamp his mouth shut, glaring up at Jerome. Like before the defiance made a smile curl the man’s lips.

“We both know I can make you eat this.”

That was probably true but Oswald just ground out between his clenched teeth. “Never.”

Jerome grabbed his uniform and pulled him closer until they were touching and then reached up to grab his jaw, pressing fingers hard into the joint there and it finally hurt enough that Oswald gasped, gagging when the fork was shoved in his mouth. It was out just as quick, Jerome’s hand slapped over his mouth not letting him spit the food out. They stared at each other for a long time before Jerome finally dropped his hand, “See?”

What possessed him to do it he wasn’t sure, but he spit the food out and leveled his glare up at Jerome. He couldn’t make himself stop if he wanted to. 

Jerome’s eyebrows jumped up at that and Oswald had a moment to enjoy that he had surprised him when a fist wrapped in his hair and slammed his face down into his tray. It hurt and he cried out, only to end up with a nose and mouth full of food. The grip held him there as he flailed, and when he finally let go Oswald’s own force sprawled him backwards onto the floor, covered in the food and gasping to catch his breath. 

“Want to try this again?”

There was nothing fond in Jerome’s eyes now, only coldness, gleeful cruelty and he slowly pushed himself up and crawled forward until he was back in front of his tray. The man held out a forkful of food and he obediently opened his mouth. He expected Jerome to be violent about it, hell he expected that maybe he would be stabbed but the food was just placed in his mouth, waiting for him to eat it before another was offered. 

There was another dozen forkfuls of food before Jerome lost interest, dropping the fork and turning back to his friends and Oswald picked up the fork himself. He didn’t plan on eating anymore but at least if it was in his hand Jerome couldn’t take it again. He wiped his sleeve across his face and looked down at himself. He knew his face was red all the way to his ears, he could feel his face burning. While it was happening he hadn’t paid attention to anyone else in the room but now he realized people were watching him, laughing at him, and his fingers curled around the handle of the fork. 

He could just rear up and stab the man in the throat. Plastic or not he was sure it could do some damage. Fear held him in place though because if it didn’t work, where would he be then. Jerome glanced at him and he dropped the fork without thinking about it, like maybe the man would be able to read his thoughts and punish him for them. 

Jerome barely acknowledged him though and went back to his own food. He sat there quietly for several minutes before he muttered out, “Can I please go?”

There was a dismissive wave and he didn’t question it, scrambling to his feet as he grabbed his tray. He got as far away from Jerome as he could, sitting down at a table across the room and huddling on himself.

“You made a mess.”

He barely curled his lip at the man across from him, nodding so the man would leave him alone. He didn’t take his eyes off Jerome, he had to figure out what the man really wanted, there was no other way he was going to be able to get a handle on this. He was a master of manipulation, there was just  _ something _ about Jerome that made it impossible to predict what the man was going to do, what would make him happy. A nervous part of his brain suggested that maybe he did know what the man wanted he just didn’t want to accept it but he shook that off. He had survived every attempt at him thus far, one psychopath in Arkham should be nothing. 

Oswald tried to get a guard to get him a clean uniform but the man ignored him and he finally washed them as best he could in his room, staring at himself in the mirror for a long time. He was still there when his cell door swung open. 

He expected a guard, and turned to look, jerking backwards so hard he slammed into the wall when it was Jerome there instead. The man moved into his cell like he owned it, eyeing Oswald top to bottom before he waved his hand at him. “Take your uniform off.”

“What?” He clutched at it, shaking.

“They are dirty.”

He looked down at them, and that was true, but it was preferable to being naked. He had never been fond of being undressed in front of others, he knew that he was small, scrawny, but he was always able to hide that with layers of clothes.

Though not as much these days. The uniforms were made to fit a wide range of sizes and the pants pooled over his feet, making him trip on them, the sleeves inches past his fingers so he either had to push them up or - more often - pulled them over his hands. It made him feel smaller than he was. And right now they were the only thing protecting him, as haggard as they were. 

Jerome looked behind him at the guard, “He needs to have his uniform washed.” The guard glanced at Jerome and then moved into the cell. How was he supposed to do anything against that?

The guard reached him and laid a hand on the baton, “Come on Cobblepot. You can take it off or I can remove it.”

“Please.” 

He didn’t take it off and guard grabbed his arm to yank him forward, unbuttoning the uniform as he tried to push his hands off him. It was a losing battle and he finally gave up and let himself be man handled out of it until he was just in underwear and an undershirt, and he was desperately afraid that they would be taken from him as well. 

The guard backed off though, Jerome patting him on the shoulder as he headed out of the cell, closing the door behind him so they were locked in together. “See? Isn’t that better. If you’re lucky you will get it back before breakfast.”

Oswald wrapped his arms around himself and moved until his back was pressed against the wall. Jerome was watching him like he was waiting for something and Oswald looked at the way the guard had gone and back to the man and stuttered out, “Th-thank you.”

It made Jerome frown, and let out a disappointed sigh, “Oh, I think I might have been wrong about you Oswald, but we’ll keep trying. And we’ll make do with what we have in the meantime.”

“What does that mean?”

Jerome moved to his bed and dropped down on to it, patting the space next to him. “Why don’t you come here?”

“I’m okay where I am.”

Jerome sighed, “Come here little bird, before I lose my patience.”

Oswald clenched his fists but finally headed over towards the bed. Jerome looked him over as he did, pausing for a moment on Oswald’s bad leg and there was a sharp jolt of shame. He knew how it looked and there was no way to hide it now. Jerome’s eyes moved on though without much reaction and that at least eased something in his chest. All of the indignities he was currently suffering, that one would have been just too much.

He eased himself carefully next to Jerome, settling his hands in his lap and training his eyes there, trying to curl himself in as small as he could. Protect himself the only way that he could. 

Jerome dropped a hand on his thigh, and the skin on skin contact made him flinch away hard. He whimpered, “Please don’t touch me.”

“Barely a touch, so sensitive.” He patted his thigh, “I plan on touching much more Oswald, so perhaps you should relax.”

No, no no no. Oswald cried out, a desperate sound and scrambled to get off the bed. He didn’t care what the consequences would be. It was too cruel to think that the first time someone touched him like that would be  _ here _ , would be like this. He had done bad things but he didn’t deserve that.

“Woah.” Jerome sounded surprised and it took him a moment to react to Oswald scrambling across the floor. “Well, that was unexpected.” He watched Oswald huddle in the corner of the cell and tilted his head, trying to figure him out, “That was quite a reaction from you little bird, when you’ve been so docile for me.”

“Please… please don’t. I can do the dance you wanted me to, I can do… do anything, but not that. Please.”

Jerome moved to his feet and moved towards Oswald, a grin slowly spreading across his face. “Am I so unattractive?”

When he reached Oswald he grabbed him and pulled him to his feet, pressing him against the wall with his body, leaving them touching from shoulders to knees. Oswald’s face was red, nearly hyperventilating as Jerome reached up a hand to run through his hair, gripping it to pull his head to the side and bare his neck.

Teeth pressed against his neck, biting down until he cried out and tried to get away. That only made him bite down harder and finally Oswald went still, whimpering. The teeth went away but Jerome’s mouth was still there, sucking on his neck, nipping here and there until he finally pulled back to admire his work. Oswald’s neck was lined with red marks and one large bite mark that was already bruising.

Oswald didn’t remember reaching up to grab at Jerome’s arm, but his hand was wrapped in the material, clinging to him. Jerome moved his head like he was going to kiss him and Oswald tilted his face away, whining deep in his throat. 

There was an impatient sound from Jerome as he dropped his forehead against Oswald’s. “I can’t decide if you are boring, or just stupid.” Jerome took a step back to look at him like he was trying to figure it out and the man opened his mouth but suddenly his eyes widened and a grin slid across his face. 

“Pengy, have you never been with someone before?” Oswald tried to move away, tried to get around him, but Jerome grabbed his arm and gently pressed him back against the wall. “Well, this is much more interesting than I had thought it would be.”

Oswald didn’t think that was something he wanted, to be more interesting to Jerome, and he stuttered out, “N-no, I have. I’ve…”

“No you haven’t, I can see it on your face. I can see it by how you respond to touch.” Jerome chuckled, fingers stroking over Oswald’s shoulder. “Well this changes everything little bird. Now I got to… do this right. Court you. What fun.” He sounded genuinely amused and cupped Oswald’s face with both hands, “Come now, I’d at least like a kiss”

Lips were pressed against his and Oswald expected the man to bite him, or be rough, but it was gentle. Lips moving against his softly and he couldn’t keep up how tense he was in the face of it. He opened his mouth, leaning into Jerome, stumbling when the man suddenly pulled backwards and was laughing. “Oh, you are so easy.” The laughter got louder as he let go of Oswald and stepped back, “Is that all it takes? One gentle touch and you give in?” Laughter bounced off the walls and Oswald could hear others laughing outside of his cell, whether they heard what was happening or just reacted to the laughter he couldn’t tell.

Oswald’s mouth opened and closed a few times, the words so close to what Sofia had told him that he realized they must be true. That must be who he was. So desperate for a little bit of affection that he would fall for anything. 

Jerome dropped back on to his bed and spread his legs, palming one hand over himself. “We’ll take it slow, but not that slow. Come here.” Oswald chewed on his lip, desperately shaking his head and Jerome tilted his head, “I can make this painful if you’d prefer, little bird.”

Oswald swallowed hard but moved forward. He was smart enough to know that he had no way out of this. He wasn’t sure what the man was going to make him do, he was already frazzled from the kiss, from the touching, from so many things out of what he had ever experienced. It would almost be better if Jerome was violent, at least he was used to being touched like that. 

He expected to be told to get on the floor, to kneel, but like earlier he patted the bed next to him. As soon as he was sitting next to him Jerome was undoing his uniform and Oswald made a small anxious sound when he pulled his cock out. Jerome glanced at him before he rolled his eyes, “Virgins are always scandalized.”

He grabbed Oswald’s hand and brought it to his cock, and waited. Oswald glanced up at his face and then back down, and he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do. 

The smile on Jerome’s face was slowly sliding away, and finally he wrapped his hand around Oswald’s, forcing his hand up and down. After a few moments he finally shoved Oswald’s hand off him and rubbed his forehead. “This is not enjoyable.”

Oswald clasped his hands together, stomach twisting, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t you ever touch yourself?” Oswald flushed, because sometimes he did but not often. It felt awkward to him, and he shook his head. 

Jerome closed his eyes and then opened one to look at him, “I want to be annoyed, but its kind of endearing. We can work with this.” He gave Oswald a push until he was on his back on the bed and then clambered on top of him, settling on his hands and knees over him. He leaned on one arm and reached down to jerk himself off, shifting his weight to knee apart Oswald’s legs. 

It was more touch than Oswald had before, and he willed himself to do something, anything, but he could only lay there. Like he wasn’t in control of his own body. He didn’t know where to look, finally settling on Jerome’s chin. The man was grunting, rocking against him as he touched himself and Oswald shifted, chewing on his lip when it made Jerome’s thigh rub against him. 

He didn’t really mean to but he shifted his weight again, just a little, just to feel that rub again and it was enough to catch Jerome’s attention. He grabbed Oswald’s hand to bring to his dick again, and Oswald didn’t need to be told what to do. Jerome covered Oswald’s hand, controlling the pressure and the speed and it was only a few more strokes before he came.

Cum splattered both of their hands, over Oswald’s stomach where his shirt had rucked up and Jerome let out a breathy laugh. ‘“Can’t remember the last time I got off on a just a handy, I must really be fond of you Ozzie.”

The man pushed up to his knees, making a face at the cum on his hand before he wiped it off on Oswald’s leg. Oswald wiped his own hand off on the sheets, pulling his shirt down over his stomach, uncaring of the cum. He just wanted to be covered.

Jerome abruptly cupped Oswald through his pants where he was embarrassingly hard. “Did you want…” 

Oswald shook his head, pushing with his legs so he could huddle on one side of the bed, as far away from Jerome as he could get. The man shrugged and got to his feet, fixing his clothes as he headed towards the door and rapped his knuckles on it. “Good first effort Ozzie, don’t worry, we’ll work on it more next time.”

The door opened and Jerome slipped out and Oswald was left sitting on his bed, shaking, as he tried to wrap his mind around what had happened. 

He huddled in his blanket, and for a moment his hand hovered over where he was hard but he resolutely wrapped his arms around himself. He laid his cheek against his knee and couldn’t stop the tears.

He tried to tell himself maybe that was all the man would do, that he wouldn’t push him further. He had been the king of Gotham, he had been the  _ mayor _ , how could he be bested by one psychopath. How could he have so little power.

“Quit with the waterworks and go to sleep. We have a long day tomorrow.”

Jerome’s voice drifted through the grate and it reminded him that even alone in his cell he didn't have privacy. Couldn’t even have one thing to himself. 


	5. Chapter 5

Morning came and Oswald uneasily pushed his blanket off of him, glancing at his cell door and then down at himself. Trying to figure out what exactly he was going to do if breakfast time came and he still had no uniform. His stomach flipped and twisted at the thought of being marched down in what he was wearing. 

His cell door opened and he held his breath but the guard there was holding his uniform and he scrambled forward to grab it, worried it was a trick and would be snatched away. Once his hands were on it he slunk back into his cell, getting dressed, and by time he looked back at the door Jerome was waiting for him. Watching him.

“Coming Pengy?” He was froze to the spot though, mouth going dry and eyes wide, like a deer in the headlight. Jerome tilted his head a little, grinning at him, “Breakfast is the most important meal of the day.”

“Right.” He nodded, too fast, too hard, body suddenly kicking into motion. He couldn’t skip a meal if he wanted the therapist to leave him alone, although they might forgive one. But more than that he didn’t need help understanding Jerome. That the man was giving an order, without having to actually say it. There was a pang of jealousy at it, no matter how much authority Oswald had, how much he had controlled he had to claim it with loud words. Threats. And had to keep that up, or he’d lose his respect. 

He flinched when he reached Jerome, expecting the man to touch him, but he just turned and headed towards the cafeteria. In fact, the man mostly ignored him and they were nearly to the end of the line when Oswald spoke up, voice soft and hopefully only for Jerome’s ears. “Do… Do I have to sit with you?”

A smirk was thrown his way and Jerome made a general motion towards the room. “Free country. Or well, not free for us I guess. But sit wherever you want.” Jerome stopped abruptly, Oswald almost running into him and met his eyes, “Don’t you think you’d be safer with me though?”

He’d been there 6 weeks and the only person that he had trouble with had been the man in front of him. He didn’t answer, just took his tray and backed away towards the other side of the room, looking for somewhere to sit. He could feel Jerome’s eyes on him but he ignored it, he couldn’t escape him in his cell, but he’d take any separation that he could get. Help him get his head straight. 

There was an empty table and he slipped into a seat, keeping his head down, poking at his food with his fork. 

He was trying to decide what on the tray would be the easiest to stomach when someone slid into the seat directly to his left, and then someone to his right. He looked up at them and didn’t recognize them, and swallowed hard as he had to look way up.

His eyes darted to Jerome across the room, who wasn’t looking at him, but he wasn’t stupid. This was clearly an intimidation attempt and it hardened his resolve as he ignored the men and tried to focus on his tray. 

That only lasted for a few minutes before his tray was grabbed and pulled out of his reach by the one on his left and when he turned to look that way, to say something scathing, he was grabbed by the one on the right, shoving him hard backwards so he tumbled over the bench. The man followed him down, straddling him, and he took a couple hard hits before the guards were there, pulling the man off him. 

Rolling to his hands and knees he spit out a mouthful of blood, glancing up at the second man that hadn’t been dragged away. The man watched him from his seat, eyes dull and lifeless and he might as well be a puppet. Oswald didn’t need it written out for him. Carefully he reached around the man to pick up his tray, swiping at his bloody nose as he did so. 

It was a long humbling walk over to Jerome’s table. When he got there the spot next to Jerome was open and he tried to find his words, “I seem to…” He trailed off as the words stuck in his throat but it was enough to make the man look at him.

“Told you it wasn’t safe, Pengy.”

He nodded, closing his eyes as he pushed down his rage, “You were correct. May I sit here?”

“Say please.”

His jaw twitched as he looked down. “Please.”

“Of course old friend.” He thought he would be told to sit on the floor again but slid into the seat with no problem. Jerome did grab his jaw to tilt his head up, reaching up with his own sleeve to wipe the blood of Oswald’s face. His nose was bleeding and he could feel the cut on his cheek had opened back up. “Knocked you around good, huh? Better stay close to me, I’ll keep you safe.”

Oswald dropped his eyes as soon as Jerome let him go and when the man kept watching him like he was waiting for something he muttered out, “Thank you.” Laughter broke out over the table and he hunched his shoulders. He had to get out of here.

After breakfast it was back to their cells and Jerome threw his arm around Oswald’s shoulders, pulling him close, making him stumble with the force of it. He leaned down close to the man’s ear. “Mind if I join you for a bit?”

“Do I have a choice?”

Jerome laughed and pulled him closer, fingers digging into his shoulder hard enough to bruise. “Sure you do, just not any good ones.”

“Then, please, join me.”

The guard didn’t so much as look up when Jerome followed him into his cell, and he wondered if there was anyone in the prison that wasn’t under the man’s control. If there was anywhere that might be safe. 

“You do have seem to attract dangerous people, Ozzie.” Jerome grabbed his chin to tilt it up, looking at the bruises and the blood, a smile curling his lips that was anything but nice. “Why do you suppose that is?”

He shook his head, chewing on his lip. Jerome didn't seem to notice or care that he didn’t answer, “That’s right, because you are a dangerous person too! I think. You used to be,” Jerome let go and stepped back to look at him, “I think it’s still in there.” He stepped backwards until he fell back on Oswald’s bed. “Would you say this is our second date?”

Oswald grunted and put his hands out, there was no answer that work, he was sure of it. And he didn’t know which one would be less damaging, so silence it was. Jerome let a sigh, not entirely happy but sat up and spread his legs. “I figured you’d be old fashioned, probably wouldn’t put out until at least the third date.”

“You will not touch me like that.” The words spilled out, heavy with fear and shaking.

“Oh?” Jerome moved to his feet in one swift move, stalking towards him, and he backed up until he hit the wall, no where else to go. “Then stop me.”

When he reached him Jerome placed one hand on Oswald’s stomach, sliding it up his chest, kicking apart his feet, his other hand cupping his cheek. He raised an eyebrow when Oswald just stood there, huffing out nervous little pants of air. “It’s just us in here. What are you going to do about it? Are you going to fight me?” The man sounded excited, like he was anticipating Oswald to snap, but he only clenched his jaw, sniffled as tears pressed against his eyes at how helpless he was like this. 

Jerome let his head fall back as he rolled his eyes. “Do not cry. I can’t stand listening to the water works anymore. It’s all you do, mope and cry, cry and mope.” His twisted his fingers tighter in his hair and used it to move Oswald until they switched positions, Jerome’s back to the wall. He let go of his hair to grab his shoulders and gave him a hard shove down.

Oswald let himself go to his knees, though his eyes darted around the room for something that he could possibly use as a weapon. Or an escape. He looked back to Jerome and could see the man had been tracking where he was looking and waited a moment like he was trying to see if Oswald was going to go for any of them. When he just swallowed hard and stared back up at him, Jerome shrugged and reached for his pants.

“Okay.”

“Wait.” Oswald realized what was happening and tried to scramble backwards but a hand caught his hair and twisted painfully, holding him in place. He brought his hands up to Jerome’s thighs, “Please, don’t.”

“It’s good for you, you didn’t eat much at breakfast, most important meal of the day yada yada yada. Open your mouth.” The man giggled as he talked, pulling his dick out and Oswald clenched his jaw shut.

The hand that wasn’t holding his hair reached up to grab his jaw much like he had when he made him open it to eat. “If you bite me Pengy, I will break your jaw. It will be messy, and not that funny. So, be a good little birdie and open up.”

A sob caught in his throat as his mouth was manhandled open and Jerome shoved himself inside. He gagged, still trying to back up, but he didn’t bite down. Too afraid of what might happen. There was a few rough strokes that made him choke and gag, his eyes watering as he scrambled to push at Jerome’s thighs to get him to stop. 

Finally the man eased back, his cock just barely sliding across Oswald’s tongue, letting the man catch his breath. Just for a moment though before he was thrusting again, sliding down until he hit the back of Oswald’s throat, laughing as he gagged and sobbed, fingers clenched in Jerome’s uniform. 

A small part of his mind that wasn’t preoccupied with not trying to choke or throw up realized that the sounds had to be obvious, that everyone that could hear must know what was happening and it made his chest ache. To be so worthless, so used. 

A thumb swiped at a tear on his cheek, the touch so gentle against the brutality that his mouth was being used with that he whimpered, unable to control his emotions. Jerome huffed out a sound above him, “Stop sobbing on my cock, it is such a killjoy. I’ll take it easier, okay? You can do it.” The thrusts slowed down, not going as deep, and Oswald found himself at least able to breathe. 

He was sure he had caught the man with his teeth at least a few times when he was trying to adjust, but Jerome just hummed above him, rocking his hips back and forth as the fingers in his hair eased until they were just stroking. Petting him. 

Drool slid down his chin, and he felt dirty. Degraded. He didn’t know how long it went on for but his jaw was sore and his bad leg ached from being on his knees for so long. Jerome shifted so their bodies were closer, and there was no warning before he came.

His mouth was suddenly flooded with a bitter saltiness and he gagged, trying to spit it out but Jerome held him down on his cock, choking him until he swallowed. Above him the man tsked, “I told you, breakfast is important.”

As soon as the hold on his hair was released he threw himself backwards on to his butt and didn’t care if it was undignified. He just wanted to put space between them. He spit on the floor, he had already swallowed most of the cum but it was more to make a point. He swiped at his face with his sleeve, and came away with drool and streaked blood from his injuries. 

Jerome tucked himself away, grinning down at Oswald on the floor. His eyes drifted down to look between Oswald’s legs and the corner of his mouth turned down, “Not hard this time, huh?”

He tried to pull together some sort of defense and stuttered out, “There is n-nothing about you that is arousing.” Never mind that the night before he had been hard from being pressed against the man’s body, from being touched. 

There was a smirk on Jerome’s face and he could see a sharp cunning in his eyes, even if the man was undeniably insane. Oswald was a criminal, he was a bad guy, but this was a whole different type of dangerous.

“You said it, Oswald.” He pushed off the wall, barely acknowledging when Oswald flinched away and dropped on to his bed. He shifted around until he got comfortable, kicking his feet up onto the little table that passed as a desk, “What shall we do until lunch time?”

Oswald pushed himself to the corner of the cell, too afraid to even get up and rinse his mouth out, and pulled his knees up to his chest. 

The man leaned forward to poke around at the papers Oswald had on the desk, but there was nothing important so he didn’t react. Let the man look at his things, he couldn’t possibly violate him any more than he already was. Jerome obviously realized there was nothing interesting so he settled back with a sigh. He looked bored, dropping his head onto one hand. “Who is Ed?”

“What?” His surprise couldn’t be hid, and he knew he had made a mistake.

“Oh, he is important then?”

“How do you know that name?” 

“Oh, touchy touchy. Soft spot?”

Oswald slumped against the wall and crossed his arms, refusing to say another word. He didn’t have a soft spot for Ed. 

“You say his name in your sleep.” Jerome tilted his head like he was thinking. “Kind of a lot. I figured he had been your… whatever. But since you’ve never been with someone I guess I was wrong.”

“You were wrong.”

  
Jerome made a big production of yawning. “This has gotten boring. I have other more entertaining things to do. But you should rest up, after lunch it is performance time, and I’m looking forward to see what you can do Pengy.”

He intentionally took the long way around the desk so he could pat Oswald on the head as he headed towards the cell door, talking quietly with a guard on the other side before it opened. Oswald waited to here the man enter his own cell but he never heard a door and realized the man must be off to cause chaos somewhere else. Or to plot. 

Carefully he pushed to his feet, his leg threatening to give out, and limped to the sink to wash his mouth out. He looked up at his reflection and was disgusted at what he saw looking back at him. Carefully he tried to wipe away the blood, hoping he would see something different. But the bruises were still there, big wide scared eyes staring back at him and the only thing he could see was a defeated man. 


	6. Chapter 6

At lunch he didn’t try to sit anywhere else. He followed Jerome with his eyes down, shuffling along, pulling at his sleeves until they covered his hands. Trying to hide away in his uniform like he could disappear. 

He did catch glimpses of Jerome’s triumphant smirk, maybe because he had Oswald so compliant so quickly, but if they were being honest Oswald had already been broken when Jerome started to play with him. That had been why he’d been so persistent, wasn’t it? Probably didn’t want to play with broken toys.

Though sitting next to Jerome he did actually feel safe. It lowered the number of threats in Arkham to just one. And it was easy to pay attention to just one threat. Under the table Jerome shifted so their legs touched and when Oswald pulled away automatically Jerome’s foot hooked onto the inside of his, pulling on it.

Oswald grunted as it turned him sideways, but once he calmed into it, accepted the awkward sprawled position it put him in, it was manageable. Life had taught him that, being manhandled like this was manageable. However, nothing had prepared him for the other things. No one had touched him the way that Jerome did, and it was impossible for him to keep up his facade, his aloofness, when faced with it. It made him crack and crumble, and it was impossible to miss the glee on Jerome’s face when he did. 

“You’re not eating.”

Oswald glanced up at Jerome and realized he had been staring at the table and not paying attention to what was going on around him. He obediently picked up his fork but only poked at it, hesitant to say he wasn’t hungry after what happened the day before. What had happened after breakfast.

And he was hungry the food was just… not appetizing. He finally settled on eating the fruit, drowning in some kind of syrup with a tinny taste to it, but it was the least offensive and he glanced up at Jerome looking for some sort of approval. He was aware that he’d lost some weight since he’d been in, and he hadn’t had much to lose. Not as bad as the first time, though. He shuddered at that thought and tried to tuck into his food with a little more appreciation. At least he  _ could _ eat without being sick this time. 

Jerome was still watching him, and he wasn’t sure if he had done something wrong. He flinched when Jerome lifted his hand but the man just cupped his jaw, a thumb dragging across his lips before the man chuckled and dropped his hand, going back to his own food.

It made him uneasy as he glanced at the others at the table, some too far gone to pay attention, but some very aware. Knowing glances, mocking smirks. The next bite of food went down hard, accompanied by anxiety and shame. 

A hand landed on his thigh and he twitched, expecting pain, but fingers just barely brushed his inner thigh where his leg was forced out at an angle. There was a soft chuckle next to him, “You are a nervous one.” The fingers stroked just a touch higher, enough to make Oswald’s stomach flip with anxiety before they were gone. The man’s voice was thoughtful, “I think I’d rather you not perform today Oswald,” there was a quick jolf of relief but it faded as the man continued talking. “I think I have a better purpose for you.”

Any appetite he had was gone and he silently poked at his food, trying to figure out if things just got better for him or worse. 

After lunch as they moved back to their cells Oswald watched some of them detour away from the line, and how oblivious had he been for so long that he never noticed it before? There was no bag over his head this time, just Jerome’s arm sliding around his shoulders and directing him down a hallway until they came to room, table pushed into the middle to make a stage and despite what Jerome had said he could feel his face heat up. Sure that he was to be humiliated in some way, whether on the stage or not. 

The arm slipped off his shoulders and Jerome sat in his chair, his throne as it was, and Oswald hesitated not sure what he was supposed to do. The man was watching him carefully, and Oswald swallowed hard before he moved towards him. There was no point to pretend like he didn’t know he was expected to at least sit at his feet. With some stumbling he got to the floor, though when he tried to scoot farther up, a hand grabbed the back of his uniform and dragged him backwards until he was pressed between Jerome’s legs.

Fingers wrapped in his hair to tilt his head back so Jerome could see his face and the glee was terrifying. The man watched him for a moment, mouth quirking before he let his head go with a shove, voice dripping with contempt. “Good boy.”

His fists clenched but he forced himself to relax. This was harmless. It wasn’t like he hadn’t ever been ordered to sit at someone powerful’s feet before. Never mind that he thought he was past that by now, he could only play the cards dealt him. He’d worry later about why his hand was always so terrible. 

He intentionally didn’t pay much attention to what was going on in front of him, not thinking about who was being forced to do what, keeping his eyes on the floor in front of him. Jerome’s hand occasionally dropped down to touch him, fingers trailing across his neck, through his hair, like petting a dog.

When Jerome leaned close to him to talk though he did tilt his head up, paying attention. “You are boring me.”

“I’m sorry.” He didn’t know what he was supposed to do about that, what the man wanted, and he pulled his sleeves down over his hands, anxiously tugging at them. 

“Maybe I should have you perform, today?” Hands were pulling him to his feet and he moved to them gracelessly, stumbling as all the eyes in the room turned to him. “What would you like to do?” 

Oswald glanced at the table and back to Jerome, his mind blank even though he had prepared for this moment. His face turned red and his mouth opened but nothing came out and it made Jerome cackle. “Juggling perhaps?” He tilted his head like Oswald had answered, making a surprised face, “Naked? Naked juggling? That seems dangerous but it’s your act.”

“No.” His face turned impossibly redder, and he eyed the inmates near him, preparing to fight because that just wasn’t going to happen but they weren’t moving yet. No signal from Jerome yet. “Please, no.”

“You don’t want to perform?”

“No.”

Jerome nodded, “Then come back here and try to entertain me a bit more, or we will have to put you up on the table instead.”

Swallowing hard he nodded, forcing his body to move, trying to shake off the panic. He wasn’t expecting to be pulled on to Jerome’s lap instead on the floor, his legs on either side of the man’s, forcing his body open and exposed and a small helpless whine made it out of his throat. Like this his body was pressed against the length of Jerome as he forced to lean back, an arm wrapping around his side to press an open palm against his stomach, holding him there. He wanted to fight the positioning, but this was a better alternative to what else Jerome had been suggesting so he was mostly compliant. He had a feeling it had been intentional. 

With a wave of a hand the ‘entertainment’ as it was continued and Oswald tried to relax. His face was still red though, and he couldn’t get that to fade away, not forced into such an obscenely intimate position. 

Almost as soon as he thought it, like the man could read his mind, his other hand slid around Oswald, stroking down his chest all the way to the waist of his pants before he realized what was happening. He whimpered and tried to twist away but Jerome just shushed him, the arm around his waist tightening to hold him still. “Stay.” It was that dark tone, the one that lacked the obnoxious playfulness and Oswald felt himself responding to it, going still.

Jerome’s hand slid over his groin, cupping him through his uniform and he couldn’t help whining, but he had no where to go, not held against the man like he was. He tilted his head to look back, trying to read Jerome’s face so he could at least get an idea of how far this was going to go, but he wasn’t even looking at him. He was watching the show going on in front of him, seemingly disinterested as his fingers stroked over Oswald, tracing the outline of his soft dick through his pants.

He wasn’t sure what to do with his hands, letting them hover close to his chest, and subconsciously tried to pull his legs closed, his muscles tensing against Jerome’s thighs. The only response was Jerome slouching a bit splaying his own legs out more, forcing Oswald’s to follow suit. The fingers on him pressed more firmly, a slow rhythm dragging up and down, and he choked on a whimper when he started to harden. How could he not, he had never been touched by anyone before, and despite the situation it felt  _ nice _ . 

Oswald brought his eyes up, trying to focus on what was happening in front of him and ignoring the persistent fingers. He couldn’t help shifting his weight here and there, mouth dry as he tried to slow down his heart rate. Try to pretend like it wasn’t effecting him. 

The hand around his waist shifted until Jerome reached under his shirt, pushing it up to splay a hand over his stomach, not doing anything other than skin on skin contact. It rucked his shirt up though, exposed him more and a disgruntled sound came from the back of his throat. The sound seemed to encourage Jerome and the fingers stroking him curled slightly, sliding up and down his cock with more purpose.

Embarrassingly he was already hard, huffing out a surprised sound when Jerome lazily dragged the corner of his thumb nail over the head of his cock, pressing against the slit there and even through the uniform his body twitched and he had to consciously force himself to hold still. To not press up into that touch.

Jerome shifted him slightly and the hand pulled away and he barely had a moment of relief before it was back, undoing his pants and slipping inside, under his underwear until he was gripping his cock and Oswald yelped, hands coming up to grab at Jerome’s arm at the suddenly violation.

He tried to tug his hand out, digging his fingers into Jerome’s arm, snarling without any words. Too caught off guard to remember he was supposed to be appeasing the other man. Jerome’s cheek pressed against his, voice a low grumble, “If you don’t drop your hands, I will cut them off.”

His body jolted with the threat and he didn’t know if the man was bluffing or not. Knew that he was too insane to be able to risk it and with a pathetic whimper he dropped his hands, grabbing on to the bottom of his uniform shirt to keep them there. 

It had attracted attention and everyone was watching them, again, and Oswald finally understood that no matter what was happening in the front of the room, on the table, he was still the entertainment. It made him feel sick and he wished that would be enough to make his cock fall in line, but it was still hard, still twitching under Jerome’s hand. 

Out of choices he slowly let his muscles relax until he was back in his spot, leaning against Jerome and once he settled the man pressed a loud wet kiss to his cheek. “Atta boy.” The hand gripped his cock, sliding up and down in a meandering tempo, like touching him was just an afterthought. When his thumb swiped over the head, pressing against the sensitive underside he couldn’t help rocking his hips. His thumb persistently circled the head of his cock, nudging at his slit he could feel precum leak out. Jerome let out a smug sigh, swiping his thumb through it, swirling until there was more and using that to make his hand stroke easier. Oswald’s breath hitched, and he wasn’t sure but he thought maybe he was going to cry. 

A moan was what came out instead of a sob and he shoved one of his hands in his mouth, biting down on his hand to try to smother the sound. The hand around him tightened, speeding up the strokes and Oswald screwed his eyes shut as he rocked into them. He tried to pretend he wasn’t in public like this, that it was someone else touching him, unfortunately the image that popped in his head was of Ed and that made him moan again, cocking twitching.

“Someone is excited.” Jerome laughed against his neck, mouthing over the marks he had already left there, “Why didn’t you tell me you wanted it so bad, Pengy.”

He bit over the bite mark already there and it was a weird burn of pleasure and pain and Oswald couldn’t stop the whimpers from making it out of his mouth and even muffled by his hand they sounded pathetic and needy. 

Jerome used his other hand to grab Oswald’s wrist, pulling his hand away from his mouth, taking away even that small measure of protection. “Let me hear you, little bird.”

Laughter made his eyes snap open, reminded him that they weren’t alone, and he could feel Jerome’s smirk where he pressed against Oswald’s neck. “Think I need a little more space to uh, work here.”

Oswald was still trying to avoid the eyes looking at him so it took him a second too long to catch up that he was being maneuvered so Jerome could push his pants down enough to expose him. He squeaked and grabbed Jerome’s hands for just a quick moment before he remembered the threat and let them go instead stumbling over his words. “Please don’t, please, I don’t want to be… please stop.”

Jerome ignored i'm, because of course he did, slapping away his hands when he tried to cover himself. Without the restriction of his pants Jerome’s strokes were faster, more satisfying and Oswald could only whine, humiliation and arousal twisting his stomach and making his heart race until he felt like he could barely breathe. 

It was degrading, being put on display, and he desperately just wanted to curl away somewhere he could be alone. That wasn’t allowed though, Jerome kept his body positioned so he was completely exposed, open and vulnerable and he could handle if he was being hurt, tortured, but his mind didn’t know how to line up what was happening with the pleasure he was feeling. 

There was a wetness on his face and even before he swiped his hand across it he knew he was crying. He was getting close, could feel the build up of orgasm between his legs and he dropped his head back, turning his face to hide against Jerome’s chest. He gave one last attempt, breathy words that he wasn’t even sure the man could hear, “Please stop.”

But Jerome must have because he tilted his chin down, voice just as low, “If you really wanted me to stop, you would have fought more.”

The words pulled a sob from him because that wasn’t true. Of course he didn’t want this, to be displayed and humiliated and touched. Though it was only one man holding him in place, just idle threats that kept him compliant, so why  _ hadn’t _ he fought more. 

His thoughts stuttered as Jerome twisted his fist, a groan replacing the sob in his throat and he tried to get back to what he was thinking. Tried to ignore the overwhelming physical feelings. There had been more to it, to him not fighting. He didn’t  _ want _ this.

Jerome bit down on his shoulder and all thoughts flew out of his head as he was suddenly cumming, mewling out a small pleasure sound that he didn’t even really believe came from him as his hips jerked, cum sliding over Jerome’s fingers and onto the floor. He could barely focus, everything blurry for a moment with the force of his orgasm, but finally came back to laughter just behind his ear.

“What a messy little pet!”

Fingers were held up to his face, waggled in front of him, and he stared for long seconds trying to understand what was happening. Jerome’s patience didn’t last long before he was pressing the fingers to Oswald’s mouth and he registered the taste of his own cum on his lips and tried to jerk his head back, but he was already pressed against Jerome’s chest and there was no where to go.

“Come on, clean up after yourself.”

It only took him prodding his lips one more time before he grudgingly opened his mouth, letting Jerome shove the fingers in his mouth, licking them clean when Jerome pressed them against his tongue. It was just one more degradation and the faster he complied the faster it would be over. 

Even while he sucked on the fingers he shuffled his hips, pulling his pants back up, tucking himself away. Desperately needing to cover himself, to maintain some form of protection. The fingers were finally pulled away and he swallowed, the taste lingering in his mouth and he glanced down. Jerome shifted behind him, the arm around his waist keeping him in place while the man moved and for a horrible second he thought the man might make him lick the cum off the floor but Jerome just settled, pulling Oswald against him.

“Continue.”

He realized that all activity around them had stopped and reluctantly the entertainment picked back up. Jerome was still paying him attention to him though as he grabbed his jaw from behind, tilting his head back so he could see his face. Jerome watched him before he turned his attention to the man next to him, “Pretty little bird I have here, huh?” Like he was showing off a new toy and wanted someone to appreciate it. Oswald wasn’t sure the comparison was that far off. 

The man grinned, whether at what was being said or at Jerome’s attention who knew, and nodded his agreement. “Pretty.” He reached out one hand to settle on Oswald’s knee. Oswald’s body tensed up, it was one thing for Jerome to touch him, but to have some  _ nobody _ just casually touch him like that was unacceptable. Not that he could do anything about it.

Though he didn’t have to. As soon as the man touched him the smile disappeared from Jerome’s face and his foot flung out, catching the man in the side of the head sending him sprawling. The man shouted, hand going up to his head and coming away with blood, and silence settled over the room. 

Jerome pulled him in tighter, possessively, and snarled, “No one touches what’s mine.”

Muttering apologies the man gingerly slid back into his seat, leaning away to make sure that he wouldn’t accidentally brush up against Jerome or Oswald. On the other side of them there was a slight shift as well, giving them space. 

Oswald stayed tense until Jerome relaxed, the hand over his stomach stroking gently as the man nuzzled against his neck. He swallowed hard because this wasn’t what he wanted, he knew that. He couldn’t stop some sick urge from wrapping it’s way around his chest though, filling that spot that ached for attention, to be wanted. 

Quietly, unsure of the reaction, he mumbled, “Thank you.” 

Jerome nodded against him, “Of course, little bird. I take good care of my toys.” The fingers tightened though, crossing the line into hurting, reminding Oswald that he was not safe. “As long as they don’t get boring.”

More tears were prickling at his eyes but Oswald only nodded, huddling against the man like he could protect him from the threats, even when he was the one making him. A gentle kiss was pressed to his jaw, even as fingers pushed bruises into his hip bone, and he wasn’t sure which action scared him more.


	7. Chapter 7

Dinner was much of the same, and Oswald bitterly thought that it hadn’t taken long for him to fall into line, to do as he was told. Though at least when he sat besides him Jerome didn’t touch him, just turned to his own food. 

He knew to eat so he didn’t attract attention but the food was as unappetizing as ever. He should have looked into reforming Arkham when he was the mayor. When he had been  _ the mayor _ . That thought made him laugh, though he tried to choke it down so Jerome wouldn’t pay him any attention. It made it come out in an awkward snort, and he quickly ducked his head, shoving a forkful of food into his mouth. He could see Jerome glance at him, mouth quirked, but the man didn’t do anything. 

An inmate sat across from them and Oswald didn’t pay much attention though he could see the man slide something to Jerome. Jerome took the box and nodded his thanks before he glanced at Oswald and though he made sure it didn’t show he kept an eye on the man, sure that something bad was going to happen. Some new way to torture him. 

Jerome’s hand entered his line of vision and he flinched out of habit, but the man was only holding his hand out, palm up, an orange sitting there. A real fresh orange, and not the sugar sludge that passed for fruit here. 

His eyes stayed on it for a moment before he looked up at Jerome, took in the expectant look and managed to get out, “For me?”

Jerome winked and set the orange down on his tray and Oswald snatched it, and who would have ever thought he would be this excited about a piece of fruit. “And this my little bird.”

The other thing Jerome set down on his tray as well and he eyed it before he realized what it was and looked at Jerome, unable to control the disbelief in his voice. “Is that a piece of chocolate?”

Jerome nodded, watching him, waiting. He wasn’t sure for what, if he was supposed to do something, and he reached out slower to take the piece of chocolate before he met Jerome’s eyes. “Thank you?”

The smirk only grew and Jerome went back to his food, and Oswald knew the man had something going on in his head that put him on edge, but he knew what. Jerome was impossible to predict. He almost didn’t care as he peeled the orange, unable to help himself from sending gloating looks to any inmate that looked his way with jealousy. 

“Dinner and chocolate.”

He paused halfway through the orange and looked at Jerome, “What?”

“For our third date. I’m a proper gentleman.” The inmates on either side of him snickered and his stomach sunk. Jerome waited until he saw the realization there before he added, “I’ve been okay with you being old fashioned, but you don’t want to be a prude, right?”

The man patted his leg and then ignored him and Oswald turned his attention back to the orange, decidedly less smug. He spent the time trying to think of a way out of what was going to happen, some kind of escape, but he couldn’t think of anything. Staring hard at the table he nearly whispered, “Please don’t do this.”

If Jerome heard him he didn’t acknowledge it.

He expected Jerome to follow him into his cell after dinner like he had at breakfast, but the man just gave him a dramatic bow, grabbing his hand to press a kiss to the back of it before he went to his own cell. Oswald scrambled into his own cell, but he had no delusions that he was safe. That the man had changed his mind. 

There were weapons in his room, something that he could use to defend himself, but he couldn’t get over the fear of what would happen if he wasn’t successful. He didn’t want to be at the man’s mercy, especially not in that way, but he didn’t want to die. Which under any other circumstances might have been a breakthrough for the depression he had been in. 

Finally he settled onto his cot, pulling his knees up to his chest. He should be able to do more than just sit and  _ wait _ for it to happen. With a sigh he got to his feet and moved over to where the grate was between his cell and Jerome and sat against the wall. He wasn’t sure what he was doing, but he spoke up, voice quiet. “You know, I was the mayor of gotham.” There was no answer from the other side and he thunked his head back against the wall. “I’ve been in Arkham before too. They let me out because I was sane.”

“Guess it didn’t take.”

Jerome sounded mostly bored but there was a bit of interest in his voice and Oswald shook his head even though he couldn’t see it. “It didn’t.”

He could hear Jerome moving and he shifted away from the grate, nervous. The man settled near it and there was a chuckle before the man spoke, “I know that dangerous animal is in there Pengy, and I’ll find it. But not tonight, different plans for tonight.” Jerome started to get up but settled back for a moment, “I’d say don’t be scared, but, you might want to be a little scared.”

Oswald’s mouth twisted, eyes narrowing, he hated being intimidated. So he snarled out, “I’ll kill you if you touch me.” His response was more laughter and disgruntled he shoved back to his feet, not sure what he thought he was going to accomplish. But he’d had to do  _ something _ . 

He grabbed the pen on his table and held it in his hand, curling up in the corner of the cot and staring at the cell door. After an hour he couldn’t keep his level of tension up, his shoulders were sore and his hand was cramping from holding the pen. He wouldn’t have thought it would be possible for him to fall asleep, but eventually his eyes closed and he dozed off.

The pen being pulled out of his hand woke him up. He startled, fist clenching around something that wasn’t there, as he stared bleary eyed and panicked at Jerome sitting on his bed. So much for being ready. Jerome eyed the pen before he gave him a disbelieving look, “This was the best weapon you could come up with? I thought you were a killer, Pengy.”

He lunged for it, but Jerome swiftly moved to his feet and out of range. He carelessly tossed the pen across the room and moved so he blocked the bed in against the wall. Oswald pulled away until his back was against the wall, slouching against it and pulling his knees up so he could kick, as defended as he could be in the situation. 

Jerome smiled at that, taking a half step back so he could sit on the edge of the table, and even though his movements were made to look relaxed and calm Oswald could see the tension through the man’s body. Clearly ready for a fight. It didn’t bode well.

“Don’t touch me.”

“I’m going to touch you, and let’s be honest here, you’re going to let me. We’ll call it… unenthusiastic consent. The only question is how bloody it is going to be before we reach that.”

Oswald made the first move, hoping that maybe he would catch him off guard, as he shoved off the wall, swinging his fist around. He wasn’t much of a fighter but he had spent plenty of time fighting, and he could hold his own. 

Jerome was ready for him though, and let him follow through on the hit and the lack of resistance caught Oswald off guard. His momentum drove him to stumble over the man and gave Jerome the upper hand. 

A hand wrapped in his hair and grabbed one of his wrists, and he found himself slammed face first down onto the table. He kicked out his feet as his arm was twisted behind his back but Jerome leaned down over him, settling all his weight until Oswald was pinned. And he thought he’d be able to put up more of a fight than that. Apparently so did Jerome.

“That’s it?” Jerome pressed his face in between Oswald’s shoulders blades and he couldn’t hear the man laughing but he could feel it. “Pengy, really?”

He kicked his feet apart, and Oswald couldn’t help as he whimpered out as it put weight on his bad leg, leaning more into the table to take the pressure off of it. Jerome let go of his wrists and grabbed a handful of his uniform between his shoulder blades to hold him down as he wiped the blood from his nose. “That wasn’t a terrible hit, though. Good on you.” 

Before Oswald could struggle the man grabbed his hair again and tightened his fingers in it, slamming his head down hard into the table. The hit was hard enough to make him see stars and he tried to push himself up but Jerome did it again and he whimpered as he went still. 

Once he stopped moving he was pulled up and dragged until he tumbled onto his cot, landing awkwardly on his back. It was hard to focus and his face felt wet and he scrubbed his sleeve across it, shocky as he stared at the blood like he had never seen it before and realized the cut on his cheek had reopened.

Jerome clambered on top of him, nudging his legs apart so he could kneel between them and dropped down an elbow on either side of him, settling over him. Oswald swallowed hard, tasting blood, and tried to will himself to move. 

Jerome watched him as well, waiting, before he shifted his weight to brush the hair out of Oswald’s face. Jerome leaned down to bite at Oswald’s neck for a few moments before he whispered against his throat, “This is the part where you said you’d kill me, remember?”

He waited until Jerome pulled back to look at him and as soon as he did he head butt him, putting his all into it. He caught him solidly and had a momentary thrill that he had gotten him but only for a few seconds before grinning Jerome sat up on his knees and slammed an elbow across his face. His hands came up to protect him and Jerome used the movement to sink a fist into his stomach, making him try to curl up but a hand on his chest shoved him down flat. 

Whimpering he kept his hands over his face, trying to keep from taking another hit. He’d already had wounds, but he could feel his cheek swelling up, and he ended up swallowing a mouthful of blood when he couldn’t spit it out. 

His sleeve was tugged on, “Come on little birdie, lower your hands.” He tucked them closer around his face and the next tug wasn’t as nice, yanking his hand down by force. His shoulders hunched but he let the man push his hands all the way down. Jerome grabbed his jaw and was kissing him. It was messy and painful because of his injuries but the kiss itself was gentle. Lips against his and when prodded he opened his mouth, lying still as Jerome lapped in his mouth like he was licking up the blood. 

With a sigh Jerome pulled back, settling back onto his elbows over Oswald. “Oh, there it was a little bit Ozzy, I saw that danger.” He rocked his hips down, grinding against him. “No more tonight though, right? You done fighting?”

He met his eyes and tried to pull his thoughts together. He still felt like fighting, but he knew how it was going to end. He was hurt, he was outmatched, and a small part of him acknowledged that he knew Jerome got a kick out of him fighting like this but once the man wanted him to submit he was supposed to. And doing otherwise would put him on Jerome’s bad side and he didn’t want that. Not with how under his thumb all of Arkham was. It would only make things worse. 

So he kept eye contact with him and nodded. Jerome smiled and patted his cheek, “That’s a good boy.” He nudged him with his knee. “Roll over.”

Oswald had said he agreed but he couldn’t make himself move. The smile slowly slid off Jerome’s face as he spoke again. “Roll over, bitch.”

“I have access to… when I get out I can help you. I have money, and I have connections, and-”

“Quiet.” The huff from Jerome wasn’t entertained anymore. “I know you haven’t been with anyone Oswald but I will tell you that I am going to fuck you and its going to be uncomfortable or its going to be really painful depending on how good a boy you are for me.” Jerome trailed a hand down his chest, “It could be really good too, but you’re kind of uptight and I don’t think you’ll relax enough to enjoy it. So...” He made a motion with his hand, indicating for Oswald to roll over. 

“Okay.” His voice was barely a whisper and he took a moment to come to terms with it as he shifted under the man, rolling onto his stomach. Barely there hands were on his hips, slipping around him to unbuckle his pants and yank them down. It was too quick, too sudden and he gasped, trying to pull away.

A rough yank on his hips pulled him back, moving him so his knees were under him and he buried his face into his arms, muffling the tears that he couldn’t help. 

“Try to relax little bird, I don’t want to hurt you.” Hands were touching his bare skin, slick fingers slipping down his ass, and he choked on a sob. There was no hesitation as the fingers slid in him and he cringed, body tensing at the unfamiliar sensation. Jerome made a tsking sound behind him, “You gotta relax.”

The fingers slid in and out, twisting as they moved, and Jerome leaned over him to press a kiss to the back of his neck as he crooned, “You’re being so good, I’m going to have a special treat for you in the morning. For being such a good pet.”

Jerome pulled his fingers out as he moved back and Oswald barely had time to catch his breath when there was something bigger pressing against him. He whimpered, trying to force himself to relax as his body tensed again. 

It hurt. His body moved instinctually trying to ease it, spreading his legs more, dropping his chest to the bed, pitiful little whimpers filling his cell. Jerome didn’t stop moving, though his hips rocked slowly, pressing in a little further each time. It hurt but it wasn’t violent, wasn’t brutal and it gave Oswald an idea of how much worse it could have been. 

That went a way to getting his body to relax, knowing that as much as the man was capable he was being gentle, and he wanted it to stay that way. If he had to endure this, it made him feel weak but he wanted it as painless as possible. 

Eventually Jerome pressed in until he was as deep as he could go, pressed flush against Oswald’s ass and he stayed there for a moment waiting for Oswald to adjust, dragging hands up Oswald’s sides, nuzzling against his neck. His hands slid down to between Oswald’s legs, and he circled one around Oswald’s soft cock, dragging fingers up and down it. 

No. Oswald steeled himself against the touch, this might be happening but he would not allow his body to enjoy it, wouldn’t allow any part of it to seem like it was something he wanted. He turned his head so he could almost see him and muttered out, “Please stop.”

Instantly he realized his mistake as Jerome’s body paused for a moment and then his hand continued, circling his cock a little more insistently like he had earlier in the day. Interested now that it was something he knew the man didn’t want. Oswald grit his teeth, he should have kept his mouth shut.

Jerome’s hips began to lazily move, small deep thrusts that weren’t painful but they were uncomfortable, as he continued to stroke Oswald. He briefly let go to grab Oswald’s shirt and push it up over his head, leaving it tangled around his arms, making him feel trapped. He went back to stroking him with one hand while the other flattened on his lower back, sliding up his spine. 

The thrusts picked up speed, moving easier as Oswald’s body gave in around his cock, stretching and opening up for him. Jerome’s hand slid back down to settle just above his ass, big hand spanning the small of his back. “You’re doing so good, Ozzy.” 

The words were soft and affectionate and it shouldn’t have an effect on him but it did. Oswald pushed his face harder against the bed trying to deny everything that was happening to him. He managed to untangle his shirt from his arms, a bit of relief when they were free. Every few thrusts from the man there was a startling jolt of pleasure that he didn’t understand, and under Jerome’s hand his cock was half hard, edging towards harder as the fingers stroked gently over the small of his back. 

“I was wrong Pengy, I underestimated you.” A few quicker strokes of his hand, thumbing at the slit, and Jerome sounded downright gleeful, “You do like it.”

“No.” He would have liked the word to come out firmer, with more threat behind it, instead it was just a whimper. 

“Your cock is hard, doesn’t take a genius to figure it out, Ozzy.”

He was shaking his head but didn’t argue with him, what would be the point. The hand on his back slid around to under his chest and he was tugged up so he was on all fours. He shifted his weight, trying to get used to it and wasn’t ready for Jerome to grab his hips with both hands, abandoning jerking him off, and use the hold to pull back and slam his cock into him.

Oswald cried out, it had been so gentle he wasn’t expecting the force, wasn’t expecting the pain and he scrambled to get a hold of the sheets so he could brace himself. It made him tense up and the next thrust was worse because of it and he desperately tried to focus on relaxing. It was relentless, fingers leaving bruises on his hips as they dragged him back to meet each thrust. He felt like he was being torn in two.

“Please…” He wanted to go back to how it started, the careful movements and behind him Jerome hummed. It made him whimper out, “Jerome,  _ please _ .”

“Touch yourself Ozzy, and I will go easier.”

He didn’t have to think about it, he moved so he was balanced on one hand and reached down to wrap a hand around himself, stroking without rhythm or any real purpose, he just wanted the pain to stop. 

As he said he would eased down, still sliding in and out but that violent edge was gone and relieved Oz could feel his body relaxing a bit more, he was still being violated but it wasn’t as bad. His whole body was shaking and he couldn’t seem to stop. He startled when Jerome’s hand slipped over his own, forcing Oswald to touch himself with long firm strokes, bringing him back to full hardness from where the pain had made him soften. Oswald felt sick, betrayed by his own body. 

He wished the helplessness he felt, how at the other’s whim he was, wasn’t such a familiar feeling. He tried to pull his hand away from touching himself, fighting Jerome when the man’s hand tightened, whining and twisting his body uncaring of what would happen. 

Jerome let him pull his hand away, replacing it with his own as Oswald dropped his face to the blankets, sobbing into them. 

“It’s okay Ozzy, I know your first time can be overwhelming. I’ll take care of you.” The words were followed by a mouth on his neck, and he shivered, so far past being able to process what was happening that he could only take it.

He couldn’t ignore the hand around his cock, his hips rocking into the touch, unable to resist it. Jerome was talking in his ear, whispering words of encouragment, telling him how precious he was. How good he was. The words did more than Jerome’s hand did, pulling a moan from his throat. He so badly wanted to be  _ wanted _ . 

“That’s my good boy.” Jerome’s hand picked up speed, twisting over the head, making his hips stutter. He was getting closer and tilted his head giving Jerome more access to his nck without consciously deciding to. His orgasm caught him off guard, choking out a cry with Jerome biting at his neck, grinding into the man’s hand.

Jerome stroked him a few times past it, making him shiver and try to pull away from the stimulation before he let go to grab Oswald’s hips, shoving him down into the bed as he fucked into him, enjoying the squeak of protest from the man at the force. 

With his body clenching around him it didnt take long to reach his own orgasm, pinning the smaller man down as he came in him, a few final thrusts before he let out a content sound, dropping on top of him. 

He nuzzled Oswald’s neck, sighing against him. “You were better than I thought you’d be Ozzy, it’s better that you wanted it.”

“I didn’t.” He struggled to move, to be able to look at the man, trying to pull himself together. He hadn’t wanted it, he had fought. 

“No?” Jerome laughed, “You didn’t fight me very hard little bird.”

Oswald planted both hands on the bed and tried to push up but Jerome shifted his weight, shoving him solidly down. He turned his head and snarled, “Get off me.”

His response was for Jerome to rock his hips, still buried inside him, and Oswald cried out as his body clenched around him in surprise. “Maybe if you ask nice.”

Oswald smothered the nervous noise he made at the growl into the blanket before he lifted his head, “Get off me,  _ please _ .”

A real chuckle came from Jerome as pressed a loud obnoxious kiss to the back of Oswald’s head and shoved away, pulling out in a quick moment that made Oswald whine, not expecting the pain. 

There was a hard pat on his ass that brought him back to the situation and as soon as he wasn’t held down he scrambled up onto his hand ands knees, huddling into the corner of his cot, grabbing the blanket to pull up over himself. Jerome sat up on his knees, grinning at him. He tilted his head, “Come here and give me a kiss.”

Oswald shook his head, clutching the blanket. Jerome grabbed it to tug away from him, and there was a moment where they were in an undignified tug of war before Jerome managed to pull it out of his hands. Jerome rolled his eyes, “I just want a kiss Ozzy, it’s a silly thing to get a beating over.”

That was true. He edged forward but didn’t have to go far. As soon as he moved Jerome was on his feet, cupping his face and leaning down to kiss him, a chaste peck of lips before Jerome let him go. He tucked himself away in his pants and eyed Oswald as he licked his lips. “Good date, pet.” 

Oswald stared at him with big eyes, afraid to move, but the man only reached out to run a possessive hand through his hair and then was heading towards the door to the cell. He raised his hand to hit it but stopped and tilted his head at Oswald, “I was going to go back to my cell, that won’t hurt your feelings right? Won’t make you feel easy if I don’t stay?”

The mocking words made him abruptly look down at the ground and he kept his eyes averted even as the man knocked on the door to the cell and the guard let him slip out. The tightness in his chest peaked and he slowly pulled his clothes back together on auto pilot. He knew he should clean up, but he just desperately wanted his clothes on. 

There was a wet spot where he had cum, but he ignored it as he settled onto the bed, burying his face in the pillow as he cried. It shouldn’t bother him that it was his first time, that  _ this _ was his first time, but it did. It hurt and he wasn’t sure he could fall any lower. 

Everything hurt, his leg where he’d put weight on it, his head throbbed from the blows, his face and his lip, his ass. There was a confusing buzz from his orgasm too though, his body thrumming from it, and it muddled his thoughts. 

It was the only excuse he could come up with that his last thought before he fell asleep was that he had always hoped his first would be Ed.


	8. Chapter 8

Oswald didn’t remember falling asleep but he woke up sore and panicked, trying to scramble to his feet and go for a knife he didn’t have before he even knew why. It left him sitting up in bed and panting, eyes darting around his cell as the night before came back to him. 

Shame made him want to crawl back under the covers, close his eyes, and never move again. Instead he forced himself to get up and clean up as best he could with the small sink. He felt dirty, and he didn’t think it had anything to do with the dried cum on his stomach and thighs. Hopefully they would be going to the showers before breakfast, he didn’t remember what day it was honestly. 

Moving hurt but he silently said a thank you to what ever diety was listening when they called out for them to line up to head to the shower room. Normally he hated it, hated being naked and vulnerable in front of everyone but the thought of getting to clean up won out over the nerves. 

His eyes found Jerome as soon as he stepped out of his cell, and it made it easy that the man was clearly waiting for him. Jerome’s eyes scanned him top to bottom and back up, gaze somewhere between frightenly possessive and concerned. 

They started moving and Oswald couldn’t help it as he had more of a limp than usual, even though Jerome had been gentle he was sore. An arm slipped around his waist, supporting him, even as fingers cupped his hip. He flinched at the touch but didn’t fight it, letting Jerome crowd him, touch him. Letting the man do whatever he pleased.

He always hated the shower room, though the last six weeks had desensitized him to it a bit. As long as he kept his head down, cleaned up as fast as he decently could and then got dressed it wasn’t so bad. Usually no one paid him much attention but he already knew that wasn’t going to be the case now. The dread at taking off his clothes made him sick, he knew he was covered in obvious bruises and felt exposed in a way he hadn’t before.

Though he hadn’t looked he knew his neck was covered in love bites, purple bruises blossoming up and down it, teeth marks, leaving no doubt as to what they were. A guard or two noticed them but looked away quickly and he grit his teeth, he knew he’d find no help in Arkham.

In the shower room Jerome’s arm fell away as the got undressed, but slipped back around his waist as soon as he was naked, directing him to a shower head before he took the one next to it. It took Oswald a moment to realize the man was being protective, scanning the room and glaring down anyone that looked at Oswald. He was still looking at him when the man’s eyes came back to him and he dropped his own, focusing on cleaning up. 

Part of him expected Jerome to try something but the man just cleaned up, and after a few minutes Oswald relaxed. He couldn’t stay tense all the time, he had to give in at some point or he was going to make himself sick. Once or twice a hand landed on the small of his back and he got the feeling it was when another inmate took too much interest in him, Jerome staking his claim as it was, and honestly he didn’t know how to feel about that. 

At least Jerome was honest about what he wanted from him. Didn’t go behind his back and plot against him, or betray him. He hurt him, but he did it to his face. And when you accept that everyone will hurt you, you learn to appreciate the ones that do it honestly. 

He was relieved when the shower was done and he was in clean clothes. He walked close enough to Jerome to brush up against him, keeping his eyes down, and it wasn’t until they were in the cafeteria that he remembered Jerome saying he had a surprise for him at breakfast. 

Fear made him ease away from the man, for what good it would do. As soon as he moved an arm snaked around his waist, pulling him closer and he nodded, resigned. He did let go of Oswald to grab both of their trays and he wasn’t sure what to do about that besides follow after the man like a lost puppy. He wasn’t worried he wouldn’t be allowed his food, he couldn’t care less if he didn’t get to eat.

Jerome just set the trays down at the table though and he slid into the seat next to him, wincing. The bench was hard and his ass was sore and he hunched his shoulders when Jerome gave a knowing chuckle. Jerome looked up over the table and nodded to someone and Oswald watched a guard approach holding two cups, setting them down on the table before he went back to his post and Jerome pushed one towards him.

He wrapped his hand around it and looked down but he could already smell the coffee. Real coffee with espresso. He pulled the cup to his face to breath it in and couldn’t help his slightly breathless, “Thank you.”

“Of course little bird. I want you to be happy, and you earned a reward.”

The wording was condescending but he didn’t care as he drank the coffee. He stopped himself from thinking about that all it had taken to sell himself was a few treats and a kind word, he was already low enough. He didn’t need more to push him over. 

It did make him think that the man had more plans for him after breakfast though. In the short time he had picked up on the pattern, that he would get something nice and then the man would want to touch him and he set the cup down so his hands wouldn’t shake. 

He was in pain and he couldn’t imagine doing  _ that _ again so soon, and he glanced at Jerome from under his eyelashes trying to decipher if that was what was going to happen. Jerome caught the look and turned to look at him as he ate his food, smirk curled over his mouth as he raised an eyebrow at him. 

“Sorry.” He muttered the word and turned back to his food. It was best not to give it any thought, it wasn’t like he could do anything about it anyways.

Just before leaving the cafeteria a guard caught Jerome’s arm, whispering to him, and Oswald watched the smile slip off the man’s face. He reacted to that, wrapping his arms around himself, hesitating where he had been half waiting for the man. Not sure what he should do. 

It turned out he didn’t need to know as Jerome shoved past him, barely glancing at him, clearly some sort of business he needed to take care of. Oswald let out a relieved sigh and fell into line heading back to the cells. He went in his, curling up on his cot, and enjoyed a moment of freedom. He was sure whatever Jerome was dealing with it would keep him busy for awhile.

He was feeling prettty good by lunch when he hadn’t even heard Jerome go back in his cell. It was a whole half a day without being humilated or violated, and it was enough to bring his spirits up. He heard the guards opening the cells, having inmates lining up for lunch, and he stood by his door waiting.

And waiting.

It became apparent that he wasn’t being let out and he could hear the inmates all heading away and he swallowed down a lump in his throat. There was only one reason he could think of that he would be left behind, and he was sure that Jerome had planned it. That thee man intended on  _ visiting  _ him and scrambled to the back wall of his cell, shaking as he stared at the door.

He hated that he was right. A few minutes after everyone had cleared out there were steps coming down the hallway and even though he had accepted it, had realized there was no escape the thought of being forced down made him nearly hyper ventilate, and he grabbed a pillow to clutch to his chest like it would do anything at all.

The cell door swung open and he shoved himself into the corner and found himself squealing out, “No more, no more!” He wasn’t even sure why he was reacting so violently about it, not when his mind had already given in to being docile.

The guard at the door just eyed him with a bored look, “You have a visitor.”

The words were slow to make it into his head and he slowly lowered the pillow to look at him. A glance behind showed the guard was alone and he swallowed hard, no idea who would be visiting him. Maybe Zsasz, coming to remind him of the threat, though the fact that he had docilely sat in Arkham for the last whatever weeks should be proof enough that he knew he was beaten. He licked his lips and nodded, following the guard.

Outside of the visitor room he waited for them to cuff him but the guard just pushed the door open and it kind of hurt that he apparently wasn’t considered dangerous anymore. He stepped into the room and expected to see Zsasz and when his eyes landed on Ed sitting there he froze, standing just inside the door way. 

The man’s eyes scanned him up and down, lingering for a moment on his neck, before he met his eyes. “Hello Oswald. I see Arkham is treating you well.” The man looked so gleeful as he leaned back in his chair, chuckling, grin wider like the words were supposed to be a challenge.

And Oswald just didn’t have it in him. He dropped the gaze instantly, pulling his sleeves down over his hands, wrapping his fingers in them. Ed was still watching him so he gave a small nod, “I take it you are here to gloat.”

“You are correct.”

It wasn’t fair that the man’s voice still made his heart flutter and he forced himself to concentrate so he wouldn’t cry. He wouldn’t give him that satisfaction but he couldn’t stop the bitter words that slipped out. “And why not? I’m in an insane aslym.” He tried to say the words lightly, like it didn’t matter but Ed knew him better than anyone and the man’s smile only widened when the words wavered. “Being pummeled by lunatics, being vio…” Abruptly his voice cut off as he realized what he had almost said, what he almost said to  _ Ed _ and he pursed his lips. He swallowed hard and all he wanted was to be able to make the man stop grinning at him like that so he pulled himself together and went for where he knew it would hurt. “Then again, at least I’m not a moron.”

There was a momentary gratification as the grin faded from Ed’s face and he swallowed, but it was only for a moment before the man leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. “I may not be the man I once was, but I have many things you do not have. A purpose,” He waited until Oswald met his eyes and he was reminded that he wasn’t the only one that knew how to go for what hurts, “Friends. You have neither of those, and I wanted you to see that.” Ed’s eyes trailed down to his neck again and the smugness wasn’t in his voice as he added, “Looks as if someone has been friendly though, you naughty little bird.” There was a dark flash in his eyes, not entirely dissimiliar to the one that Jerome had, but Oswald barely noticed.

He slapped a hand over his neck, covering the bruises, but it couldn’t make Ed not see them and he was flustered and couldn’t think through his words. It bothered him that Ed thought he was being physical with someone, even if he wasn’t sure why it bothered him. So he snapped out, “I didn’t have much choice in it.” Which was  _ not _ what he had wanted to say.

There was shock on Ed’s face before the man could cover it, though when he spoke there was still that something in his voice. Something besides the mocking, “Oswald-”

He pushed on like it hadn’t happened, focused on the look he had seen on Ed’s face before his slip up. “No, I know you. There is something else going on, something else brought you here.”

Ed’s eyes skittered ot his throat again but he could see man shake it off and his smirk returned though it seemed forced, putting out his hands, even if there was something deeper on his face. Something it looked like he was struggling to keep under control. “There’s nothing else. I wanted you to see how well I’m doing and I wanted to see how miserable you are. Mission accomplished. I’ll let you get back to your… Owner, I’m guessing.” 

Oswald nearly choked as embarrassment twisted in his stomach making his face flush at the word. He stumbled forward, mindlessly growing out whatever threat he could manage to put together. “Ed. I’m going to be out of here soon and once I am I am going to wipe that smile off your face, preferably with a chainsaw.” Though there was a momentary caution on the man’s face, it relaxed as he eyed Oswald and he wondered how pathetic he looked.

“Now, How are you going to do that? You have no friends, no one to help you escape. You are utterly alone.” The words sunk in and he knew he lost his battle as he could feel a tear trail down his cheek but he refused to acknowledge it, and instead just glared. Ed nodded, like that was what he wanted. “Goodbye Oswald.”

He was still trying to have some kind of comeback, to do anything to get rid of the sick helplessness in his chest but Ed was already leaving through the gates. He grabbed them as they closed, screaming to make sure the man heard him. “Sorry, I don’t put too much stock in the opinions of simpletons!” He could hear Ed laugh as the outer door closed and he sagged against the gate for a moment. He wasn’t prepared for the feeling of desolation that came from Ed knowing how he had been disgraced, from Ed knowing and _not_ _ caring _ . 

Turning he swiped at his face with his sleeve, wiping away the tears, and he almost missed the small paper penguin on the table. He sucked in a quick breath, heart thudding, as he reached out to pick it up. His mind wanted to replay the first time Ed had made him one, the way the man talked to him. With respect and care and friendship. Those thoughts would only destroy him now if he let them in. He forced them away as he picked it up and unfolded it. 

It was Ed’s visitor pass and he turned it over and couldn’t help clutch it closer as he read the words written on the back. 

_ ‘I am held captive all day, my brilliance locked away, my prison must be broken, the key… my name it must be spoken. _ ’ 

Ed, or rather not Ed, had left him a note. He suddenly understood the look that had been on the man’s face, what he had been trying to hide and he couldn’t stop the overwhelming feeling of hope from making his heart beat faster.

He knew there were more tears. “You are still in there.” Ed might not forgive him, but the Riddler, the Riddler would help him. He tried to shove down the frantic need to do something immediately, he knew that it would take time. He chewed on his lip as he kept talking, reassuring himself. “That’s why you came. You’re still there.”

It hurt that Ed didn’t care, but it didn’t matter at the moment. The Riddler had reached out to him, given him options, and now he knew that Ed was wrong. He had at least one friend. He took a deep breath and ran his fingers over the piece of paper, “And you’re gonna help me find a way out of here.”

The Riddler would come for him. He just had to put together a plan. For the first time in weeks the complete desolation he had sunk into felt like it eased a little and he could breathe. 


	9. Chapter 9

Oswald clenched the piece of paper in his hand as he was led back to his cell. His heart was hammering, knowing that there was someone in his corner, someone to help him, making it difficult for him to remain stoic. There also was a part of him, a part that he would ignore if he could, but would deny what he couldn’t ignore that was elated to see Ed. Even when it had only been for the man to mock him. And oh, how pathetic that made him. 

He was brought to his cell and was still thinking about his meeting, though he stumbled to a stop when he entered it and found Jerome lounging back on his bed. 

Instinct had him drop his hands, trying to hide the riddle, even as he was aware of Jerome’s eyes dropping to it before they moved back up to his. The man was silent, clearly waiting for Oswald to say something. He hesitantly touched the table, dropping the note there, before he looked back. “Jerome, I didn’t know… didn’t know you’d be here.” There was a ridiculous urge to ask if he had been brought to the wrong cell, but besides that he wasn’t a comedian any words he might have said lodged in his throat as Jerome moved ot his feet, stalking towards him. 

Oswald found himself moving backwards until his back hit the wall and he swallowed hard, trying to keep his body relaxed. He hadn’t done anything to upset the other man, though he couldn’t be completely sure since some of the rules only seemed to exist once Oswald had broken them. 

“You weren’t at lunch.”

Jerome crowded him against the wall, one hand grabbing his jaw to tilt it up so he could see his eyes, the other hand sliding under his shirt and then just barely under the band of his pants over his hip bone, propietary and threatening all that once.

“I had a visitor.” He couldn’t help it as he sniffled. It didn’t matter that Jerome hadn’t outright done anything to threaten him, and he wasn’t even sure why he felt so guilty but he knew that he did. 

“Ah.” Jerome sounded like he probably already knew that but he tightened his hand on Oswald’s jaw to tilt his head up more, exposing his throat. “Who.”

He thought about lying. Maybe so his plan wouldn’t be jeopardized, or maybe so it couldn’t be used against him. Or maybe because he knew on an instincual animal level that Jerome wasn’t going to like the answer. But really, based on Jerome’s interaction with the guards he wouldn’t be surprised if the man already knew and lying would only be more painful, he was sure of it. 

He was taking too long to answer and fingers dug a little harder into his chin and it snapped him out of his thoughts. “Ed Nygma.”

“Ed.” Jerome said it like it was a dirty word as he dropped his hand, though he only wrapped it around Oswald’s other hip like he had the first one. He dipped his head down and lowered his voice, “The Ed you cry out for in your sleep?”

It was worded like a question, so he nodded even though he didn’t think he  _ cried out _ for the man, but the scowl on Jerome’s face said he didn’t actually need to confirm it. He pressed Oswald harder into the wall, wedging his knee in between Oswald’s legs and forcing him to spread them a bit. 

“Are you trying to make me jealous, little bird?”

“No.” He breathed the word out like his life depended on it, and maybe it did. The violence on Jerome’s face didn’t ease and he scrambled to keep talking, “I’ve never been with Nygma. He just came to gloat. We… we’re enemies.”

“To gloat.” Oswald swallowed hard and nodded desperately. “Hmm.” Jerome rocked his hip slowly, grinding into Oswald as he seemed to be considering the words. Finally once hand reachd up to trace the bruises down his neck, “So these didn’t enrage him?”

Again he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to answer and he was too scared to plot or plan or do anything other than whimper out the truth, “He thought it was funny.”

There were a few long tense moments but then a smile broke across Jerome’s face and even though his touch didn’t change much Oswald could feel the violent edge fade from it. “My poor little bird. He has no right to hurt you.” He took a step back, eyeing Oswald, tracing over his injuries, “Only I’m allowed to do that. I should have him killed.”

Oswald slowly let out a breath, trying to tamp down the panic at those words. Knew that showing it would only encourage Jerome and once he felt he could talk without stumbling over his words he leaned forward, resting his head against Jerome’s shoulder. “I can handle him just fine, please let me deal with him.”

He wasn’t sure why he thought it would calm the man, why he thought the man would listen to him. At the words Jerome tensed and a backhand caught Oswald across the face before he really saw it coming. He cried out and huddled back against the wall, bringing his hands up to cover his face. 

“I will decide what you handle.  _ I _ will decide what you do.” A rough hand grabbed his jaw to tilt his face up as he whimpered. “You belong to me. Oh, Ozzy, you hurt me running off to see your former lover. All without so much as a word to me. I worried something horrible had happened to you when you weren’t at lunch.”

“Ed and I have never been-”

“And you think you can lie to me?”

“I’m not!” He tried to hold Jerome’s eyes and let him see because he really wasn’t lying. “I didn’t know the visitor was him. Ed and I have never been together. He hates me.” It probably would have proved his point more if he could have said that they hated each other but he couldn’t quite bringing himself to say those words. 

“I don’t want you to see him again.”

“Okay.” He leaned closer even though his instincts told him that was the danger, it was also the same thing that would protect him. “Please, I’m sorry.”

Jerome gave him a hard shove against the wall before he moved away, heading towards the table to pick up the visitor pass Ed had left. It had Ed’s name on the visitor side so pretending it wasn’t from him was out of the question. Oswald’s fist clenched but other than that he didn’t move, making sure that he didn’t show that it bothered him. Jerome turned it over and read the back, eyebrows coming together before he looked up at Oswald. “And what’s this?”

“A riddle.”

Jerome read it again. “It’s not even funny.” Oswald just barely managed not to roll his eyes, but Jerome was still talking. “What does it mean?”

He looked down to it in Jerome’s hands and gave a careful shrug. “I don’t know. That is why I brought it back with me, to try to figure it out.”

All humor was gone from Jerome’s face, only violence and a dark possessiveness left. “You wanted to keep something from him.”

“No.” The word came out stronger than he expected it too and he pushed off the wall, trying to be earnest. “Just something to do.”

Jerome snorted through his nose but there was no amusement to it. “I can give you something to keep you busy little bird. Come here.”

Oswald moved towards him, slowly but without hesitation. He understood how this worked and fighting when there was nothing to win didn’t do him any good. As he approached him Jerome methodically ripped up the note. Oswald’s shoulders tensed and he had to remind himself he knew what the riddle meant, he didn’t need the actual paper, and it was pathetic that it only bothered him because it was something of Ed’s and he wanted to keep it. 

When he reached Jerome the man pointed at the ground and Oswald whimpered in the back of his throat, and when he hesitated Jerome grabbed his shoulder and gave him a rough push down. His bad leg protested and there were more whimpers, but Jerome only stood over him as he shifted his weight around until he was comfortable on his knees. 

Once he was there he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do and just stared blankly up at him. After long seconds where Oswald did nothing Jermone finally shook his head as he reached down to unbutton his pants, “So naive.” He pulled his cock out and wrapped a hand in Oswald’s hair, tugging him closer. 

He did know what he was supposed to do but couldn’t bring himself to open his mouth, the head of Jerome’s cock bumping against his closed lips as the hand in his hair tightened. A chuckle, low and dark, came from the man above him. “Is that some fight? Brought on just from seeing that man?”

And he wanted to protest that, but Jerome was kind of right, just not in the way he thought he was. He had the hope of escape, of something other than just rotting away here as some psychopath’s plaything. The only problem was he didn’t have that escape  _ yet. _ .

He was still trying to think about that, about he had to do, when he was dragged to his feet and shoved face first over the desk. “Okay little bird. This was your choice.”

It took a moment for him to understand what the man meant and then he was struggling for everything he was worth. He kicked backwards and tried to shove an elbow, but he was easily overpowered as one strong hand pinned him down by a hold on the back of his neck, Jerome’s other hand grabbing his pants and pulling them down over his hips and letting them pool around his knees. 

“Please don’t.” He sobbed the words out, he was already in pain, knew how badly it would hurt and he didn’t imagine when the man was angry that he would be gentle. “Please.”

Jerome leaned over him, his skin got against Oswald’s, as the man rocked his cock against his ass. “Something wrong Ozzy?”

“Please don’t hurt me.” He didn’t know what to ask for or what not to ask for, the man was so unpredictable. He did know that he didn’t want to be hurt though.

“You are mine to hurt as I please.” He did feel the man shifting his weight, “But I suppose since you ask so nicely, I can use lube. I do spoil you.”

It was all the warning he had before Jerome was pushing into him, too hard and too fast and he cried out, scrambling to hold on to the table. The pain he was already in flared to life and he pressed his face against his arms, choked off sobs that he couldn’t seem to control. 

Dimly he could heard someone begging, but it took long seconds before he realized it was him and he couldn’t bring himself to stop. Fingers dug into his hips, yanking him back to meet each thrust, the pain overwhelming his senses. 

He wasn’t sure how long it lasted, he had the sense it wasn’t long even though it felt like forever before the man grunted, hips stuttering as he came, grinding into Oswald to draw out a few more whimpers. It was nothing like any of the previous times the man had touched him. Those had been rough but not like this. There was no gentle touch to ease the pain, to lull him to calm down. It only felt like punishment.

When the man pulled out he let out a cry, legs trying to come together at the pain. The man patted his hip, “Stay put for a moment. You’re bleeding.”

His whole body was shaking and he could only follow the order, mind blanking out on anything else he could do. He flinched when something cold and wet ran up his thighs and he realized the man was cleaning him up. 

“There you go.” Jerome helped him get his pants up with careful hands like he hadn’t just hurt him and Oswald couldn’t get his body to react. The man leaned over him, pressing them fully against each other as he kissed the side of his neck, gentle, and spoke against Oswald’s ear, “You won’t deny me again, will you?”

“No.” Oswald shuddered when the man nuzzled the side of his neck, “I won’t. I’m sorry.”

Jerome shoved off the table and then grabbed the back of Oswald’s shirt to pull him to his feet. “Come on, youre shaking.”

He expected Jerome to leave but the man just manuevered them to the bed and sat on it, kicking off his shoes. “How about a nap?”

Oswald was aware that he was nodding, and when the man laid down on his cot he dutifully laid down as well. Jerome pushed and pulled him until Oswald was on his side, held in his arms, and Jerome’s hand laid over his stomach, fingers gently stroking. 

The shock was wearing off and Oswald moaned as pain shot up from his lower end, making all his muscles tense. His eyes had been dry but suddenly he was crying, unable to stop them even if he had wanted to. And he wasn’t sure he had the will to even want to stop them. It felt like a haze he had been in lifted and now he was just being held by the man that just violated him, but couldn’t stop his body from relaxing into the soft touch. He managed to whimper out, “Jerome.”

“I didn’t want to do that, Ozzy. But you need to know your place, it’s cute when you are moody but not when you were just so nice to your  _ Ed _ .”

And he got it. He wasn’t sure there was anything he could done to have made this go different, it wasn’t about him. It was about Jerome being angry about him seeing Ed, and somehow it made him feel better to know that it wasn’t something he could have controlled. He understood  _ why _ Jerome had done it and that made him feel better. 

“I’m sorry.” He said it like he really meant it, because he did. He had upset Jerome, he understood that now, and had deserved the punishment he got. He tilted his head to try to see the man, but Jerome’s head was tucked against the back of his neck so instead he just reached up to hold on to the man’s arm around his chest. 

“It’s okay little bird, I forgive you.”

Oswald nodded, he wasn’t dumb. He understood what was happening, he could figure out the rules, he was a survivor. Having the Riddler’s help wouldn’t mean anything if he couldn’t live long enough to use it. 

And it could be worse. Jerome had only been rough because he pushed him. Part of his brain was screaming that wasn’t true, that he wasn’t to blame, but it was easier when he thought that it was his fault. It made it feel like it was something he could control. 

He wasn’t sleepy, his adrenalin was spiked and he was in pain but he closed his eyes and let himself relax against Jerome, sure that for the moment the man was happy and he was safe. He could handle this.

  
  


Driving away from Arkham Ed avoided looking in the rear view mirror, trying to avoid seeing the  _ other _ him. It didn’t stop the man from talking though. 

“ _ You saw the marks on him. _ ”

Ed shrugged, intentionally forcing a smile on his face that said he didn’t care. Because he didn’t. “Enemies. Remember?”

Riddler’s eyes were narrowed though, a snarl on his lips,  _ “He belongs to us. _ ”

“Nothing about Oswald has anything to do with me. Or you. Espeically not you because you’re not in charge. You don’t even exist!”

“ _ He belongs to us.” _

The laugh Ed let out was frantic, “I hate Oswald.”

“ _ Oswald _ .” Riddler’s voice was mocking, and Ed grit his teeth.

“I hate the Penguin. I just wanted to see him suffer.”

_ “Of course.” _ Riddler gave him a grin, “ _ What you feel for him doesn’t change that he belongs to us. _ ”

Ed gave in and glanced at the mirror, mouth flattening at the possessive look on the other man’s face. “You are me, and I know what I feel or don’t. And nothing about Oswald,  _ nothing _ , has any effect on me. Guess you aren’t so smart, are you.”

Ed found himself only staring at his reflection and self consciously brought his eyes back to the road, huffing out a relieved breath. “That’s what I thought.” 

His eyes darted to the mirror again, just making sure, but it was still just him. He shifted his weight and tried to shake the feeling that it wasn’t the end of it.


	10. Chapter 10

Oswald woke up slowly, pain lacing through his body, so many places all at once it was hard to pinpoint exactly. Though the clearest one was his lower half, and he whimpered pathetically when he tried to move. He glanced around his cell but Jerome was nowhere to be seen and he couldn’t believe he had fallen asleep deep enough to not wake up when the man left. “Jerome?”

He tilted his head to see if there was a response from the grate but there wasn’t one and he sniffled. Slowly he rolled until he could get his feet on the ground and it was several more moments before he was able to push to his feet. He moved to the sink in his cell and chewed his lip as he tried to will himself to look at the damage. 

He pushed down his pants, swallowing hard at the few streaks of blood that were still there despite Jerome cleaning him up, and he carefully cleaned them. He wasn’t sure how to check how bad he was hurt and he skittered away from it, finally pulling his pants up once he was sure he wasn’t still bleeding. 

Instead of curling back up on the bed he sat in the chair, wincing, but he wanted to resist the urge to give in to his misery, he needed to try to get his head straight and think about how to get Ed to Arkham. To save him. A week before he probably would have been embarrassed by that, now he just desperately wanted anyone to save him. He didn’t care who.

Vaguely he knew he had to come up with some way to talk to the Riddler without Ed understanding and at least with Ed dumb that shouldn’t be too hard. How he planned on doing that though, that would require some thought. Outside of his cell there was a noise and he flinched, whimpering. It made him start to sniffle again, reminding him that there was no where to go, no where that was safe. No one came in though and after long seconds he was able to start breathing again, but the will he had to try to plan had been lost. Giving in he curled back up on the bed, pressing his face into the pillow and closed his eyes.

By the time dinner came around he was hungry, and he was anxious to see Jerome. He wasn’t sure what would happen if the man was still angry with him. He had expected to get pulled from his cell after lunch, knew that Jerome was probably off running his little sideshow, but he had stayed in his cell. 

He knew he should be glad if the man was bored with him, but then Jerome wouldn’t be protecting him, and it seemed to slip his mind that he hadn’t needed it before Jerome took an interest in him. 

Eventually there was the buzzer for dinner and the cell doors were opening. He moved out slowly, not realizing until he moved how sore he was, and kept his head tucked down with his eyes on the floor. 

Out of the corner of his eye he could see Jerome and he held his breath. He found himself letting it out in a whoosh when Jerome’s arm settled around his shoulders, pulling him against his side. “Oh little bird, you missed a great show this afternoon.”

He relaxed against him, happy everything was back to normal even if normal was  _ this _ . He could feel Jerome looking him up and down as the man slowed his steps to match Oswald’s pace. Jerome leaned close to his neck, “Are you okay? Do you need to see the doctor?”

Even though Jerome was the one asking Oswald could still feel the trap in the words, knew what answer he was supposed to give and he obediently shook his head. 

“Ah, good boy.” 

They got their food, Jerome grabbing both trays when Oswald was having trouble balancing it with his limp, and he murmured a quiet thank you. As soon as they were sitting Jerome slipped an arm back around his shoulders, keeping him close even as he dug into his food. 

Oswald ate quietly, no complaining, no poking at it, like he was on autopilot. He tensed when Jerome leaned towards him, in tune with the man’s body language. “It’s okay that you missed the show today Ozzy, I have something special planned for tonight.”

He must have made some kind of sound, some whimper because Jerome rolled his eyes. “Not  _ that _ kind of fun. I’ll let you heal up.” The man tilted his head like he was thinking about it, “As long as you do what I tell you. This is different. Like… a movie night.”

“Movie night?” He couldn’t stop the question, and was sure he looked as confused as he felt. He glanced around at Jerome’s flunkys and they were watching, but no one seemed particularly gleeful. Maybe it really would be a movie night.

“Yup. Don’t worry, you’ll see.” Jerome pulled his hand from around his shoulders and dropped it to Oswald’s leg.

His knees snapped together without meaning too, and it made Jerome laugh, squeezing Oswald’s leg and shaking his head. “Oh, Ozzy, you’re just too much.” He slid his hand up further, though Oswald knew it had more to do with messing with him than actual intent, and he really missed the arm around his shoulders.

Oswald watched the door to his cell open up after lights out, and he had really hoped Jerome would just forget about him. Not that he believed that would happen. And he should know better than to hope.

For a moment his doorway was empty and then Jerome was there, leaving against it, waggling his eyebrows. “Hey there.”

It was a momentary struggle to get to his feet, and it didn’t help the way that Jerome watched every little move. When he reached him Jerome grabbed him and pulled him forward abruptly, and was kissing him. It was unexpected and his hands came up but he ended up only resting them against Jerome’s chest instead of pushing him away. 

The kiss was gentle, lips pressing softly against his, and then a tongue licking at his lips coaxing him into opening them up. He didn’t know what had brought this on, such a difference from the Jerome that had hurt him after lunch, and he found himself relaxing into it. His fingers slowly gripped onto Jerome’s shirt, holding on and it felt like a lifetime before Jerome pulled away. He was grinning at him, and reached up to brush a thumb across Oswald’s face. “There’s my little bird. Come on, we don’t want to miss the movie.”

They went to the same place where he conducted his  _ shows  _ during the day, and Jerome pulled him towards his normal seat. He sat down and Oswald waited to be told where to sit, hoping that it would be on the floor, but sure that it would be on the man’s lap. He was pleasantly surprised when Jerome pulled him to sit in the chair next to him though, dropping an arm around his shoulders but that was all. 

Though he knew something bad was probably going to happen, could feel it in his gut, it was difficult to not relax. He leaned slightly into Jerome, watching as a bunch of half wits tried to set up a tv. On the table there were tapes and Oswald tilted his head, because there was something about them that triggered something but he couldn’t put his finger on what.

“I think you’ll really enjoy these, Oswald. I think that they will hold a … special place for you.”

Slowly he was realizing why they looked familiar and his heart felt like it was hammering too hard in his chest. “What are they?”

He could feel Jerome shrug from the arm around his shoulders, “Just some videos we found in storage, some of the things left over from when Strange ran the place I believe.”

Oswald felt like it was hard to breathe and he was shaking his head, “Jerome.”

“I thought you would like this Oswald, you do so love to be the center of attention, don’t you? Now you’re a movie star.”

He turned in the seat to face Jerome, “Please.” The man didn’t even look at him, licking his lips, eyes on where they were setting it up. He had known that Strange filmed him, his therapy sessions, and who knew what else but he had never really thought about it. The thought of seeing his sessions though, he felt sick to his stomach and like he couldn’t get enough air in. His panicked panting did finally get Jerome’s attention as the man looked at him, corner of his mouth curled up and patted Oswald’s knee. 

“Calm down, it’s just watching a movie Ozzy. I’m not even making you act any of it out. You’re being over dramatic, and that is kind of my thing, so knock it off.” 

“Jerome, please.” 

Jerome turned to look at him, the humor gone from his face and Oswald shrunk back against his chair. “I’m sorry.” Jerome kept staring at him and he chewed on his lip, trying to figure out what he should do. What the man wanted. He scrambled for what he remembered about the man, “Do you… is there popcorn?”

Instantly Jerome grinned, letting Oswald turn back towards the tv, “Of course. Can’t watch a movie without popcorn. Now you’re getting into it.” His attention turned back to the others, “What is taking so long? I’m  _ bored _ .” It sent everyone into a scurry of action, they all knew what those words led to and sooner than Oswald would have liked everyone was settling down around them. 

“Okay, start with that one.”

They grabbed one of the tapes that looked just like the others and popped it in. Oswald stared at the screen and thought he was prepared, but still jerked back when the screen turned on to himself being dragged kicking and screaming into a room and strapped down. It was an odd out of body experience to watch it happen to himself. 

Even though it was only a video, when that contraption came onto screen his stomach twisted and he almost retched, and until Jerome patted his hand he hadn’t reached he had grabbed on to the man, clenching his hand in the uniform.

On screen he watched himself stop fighting, watched until he was a whimpering crying mess. When he was shocked, his feet kicking out as he screamed on video, Jerome was laughing, using the arm around his shoulder to pull him close. 

Jerome leaned in to him, “What did it show you in that thing?” Oswald swallowed hard and shook his head, he didn’t think he could talk even if he wanted to answer the man. The lack of an answer had Jerome look at him, “Ozzy?”

It didn’t matter what he said, what he threatened, Oswald wasn’t intentionally being difficult. He just couldn’t process watching the video. “Oh Oz, this isn’t any fun when you’re like this. Answer me or things will get bad.” 

“I…” He felt sick and small and helpless and he didn’t want it to get worse, “My-my mom. Me killing my mom.” His voice wavered and he wasn’t even sure all the words made it out.

Something did cross Jerome’s face at that, a momentary softness before he looked at the tv and waved a hand, “Put in the other one. The ice cream one.” Before he realized it Jerome was pulling him out of his chair and on to his lap, wrapping an arm around him and pulling him close. “This one is my favorite Ozzy.”

“Why are you doing this?”

Jerome chuckled as he settled Oswald on his lap much like he had the last time, Oswald’s legs over his own but his arms just held him close, almost comforting. He shifted a little though and could feel Jerome hard against his ass and couldn’t help it as he whimpered. 

“I like seeing my little birdie all soft and sweet. It's cute.”

The screen came back on and it was to an up close of Strange and Oswald flinched back against Jerome’s chest, scowling at his reaction. 

‘ _ Today we will be implementing the Ice Cream Test. The subject has exhibited a drastic personality change, being described as docile and sweet. The orderlies say that he has been very friendly with the other inmates. Today we will be testing his response to negative stimuli.” _

Seeing the therapy contraption had made him sick but this… this was just humiliating. He shifted, closing his eyes, but somehow Jerome knew that and tsked at him, and he opened them back up. 

His lip curled as he watched himself, simpering and so accommodating. Though, with a start he realized it wasn’t entirely different than how he was now. 

All around him the inmates were laughing as they watched him try to calm the large man on the screen only to be grabbed and thrown on a table and struck across the face. In the background of the video Strange’s voice saying to let it go on for a few minutes as he was pummeled. He wasn’t even defending himself. Finally Strange called the guards and they pulled the man off him and Strange chuckled, confirming that Oswald Cobblepot was meek and harmless to others. 

Oswald’s face was hot, his ears red, and this might be worse than being forced to perform. He had lived through it but it was fuzzy, either because of what was done or more likely by choice, and seeing it was hard to swallow. Jerome’s hips rolled against him, grinding a hard cock into his ass, reminding him that the man was getting off on him being humiliated like this. Not that it was a surprise. 

He whimpered, trying to move away from Jerome but that only made him tighten his arm. It reminded him that he was still sore too, and the man was certainly acting like he planned on having sex with him, even though he had said he wouldn’t. 

Jerome nuzzled the side of his neck before he looked up, “Um, okay. The other one with that big fella that gave him the beat down.” He pressed a kiss to the side of Oswald’s neck, “The next one has a little more drama, what. will. Happen.”

While they were getting the tape ready Jerome’s hand dropped down to Oswald’s crotch, palming him, seemingly not caring that he wasn’t hard. He didn’t fight it because… why. Jerome was going to do whatever he wanted and Oswald already knew he was going to let him. He really wasn’t that different than the first time he’d been in Arkham and that hurt.

The next video started, Strange talking about they were going to be testing Oswald’s forgiveness, if he held a grudge, and Oswald missed what else as Jerome shifted to slip his hand down Oswald’s pants, stroking him.

The skin on skin contact was sudden and Oswald did whine at that, trying to pull his legs together out of instinct more than actually thinking it would do anything. 

“I don’t like his experiments Ozzy. I’m going to do one of my own.” Jerome’s hand coaxed him into hardness and it distracted him enough to tilt his head towards Jerome but he made a noise, “Eyes on the screen, Ozzy, it’s part of my experiment.”

Obediently he looked back, wincing as the film version of him approached the man that had beaten him up. In his ear Jerome murmured, “Will our little bird take his revenge? Or will he just take it like a little bitch. What will he do?” The hand on his dick sped up, swiping a thumb over the head of his cock. His other arm grabbed Oswald’s jaw, “Well?”  
He realized the man wanted an actual answer. He shook his head but that wasn’t enough and Jerome sighed. “Pause it.” It was and he raised his voice, “Will you get revenge, Ozzy, or take it like a little bitch?”

More laughter around them, not that it had stopped and he wanted to huddle in on himself and he  _ really _ didn’t want to be getting pushed towards another public orgasm while he was so humiliated he could practically taste it. His eyes landed on the screen where he was standing next to the man, just reaching for the knife, and he so badly wished he had used it to slit the man’s throat. Instead he lowered his eyes and muttered, “Take it.”

“What was that Ozzy? I couldn't hear you.”

The hand around his cock stopped moving and he only realized as his hips tried to buck up into the grip, Jerome’s other arm leaving his jaw to hold his hips down so he couldn’t. He didn’t want the man touching him like that but he couldn’t help whining and his attention went back to Jerome. He got what the man wanted and spoke up a little louder. “Take it.”

“Take it like what?” Jerome’s voice was giddy and he used the hold on Oswald’s hips to grind his cock up against his ass, hissing at the sensation. 

Oswald sniffled, “Take it like a little bitch.”

Loud raucous laughter around them and Jerome motioned for them to continue and when the video started up so did his hand. Oswald made a small desperate sound, he felt like he was losing himself. Jerome mouthed at his neck again, “You’re so hard, you must like this Oswald, don’t you?”

He tried to look away from the screen but Jerome grabbed his jaw again and held his face still. It shouldn’t be so hard to watch, but it was. On the screen his face was so friendly, so open, and as much as he hated it Oswald thought he might feel a little jealous of  _ himself _ being able to feel those things. 

When he cut the man free Jerome made a sound behind him, grinding up harder against him. “Take it you did, little bird.” The video went back to Strange talking about his success and Jerome made a different sound at that. “What is he so proud of himself about anyways, it wasn’t hard to break you.”

He heard the words, and was angry, but it was overwhelmed by the physical sensation, the humiliation making his skin feel too hot. Jerome twisted his hand, almost too rough, and Oswald was right on the cusp of cumming and he was completely unprepared for Jerome to suddenly pull his hand out of his pants and dump him back into the seat next to him.

Jerome palmed himself over his pants, eyes back on the screen, leaving Oswald to fix his clothes and stare at him, trying to figure out what happened. His cock was hard, pressing against his pants, and his hand hovered near it for a moment before he gripped the armrest of his chair. “Jerome?”

“Quiet Oswald, I’m watching a movie.”

Another tape was in, a one on one with him and Strange, but he couldn't stop staring at Jerome. Just as he felt like he was getting a grip on what was happening everything changed and it left him scrambling. 

When the tape finished Jerome brushed his hands along his pants and shoved to his feet, “That’s all folks, hope you enjoyed the show!”

He moved in front of him and Oswald couldn’t help but notice that the man was still hard and he darted his eyes up to him, not sure what he was supposed to do. Jerome met his eyes and gave him a grin, but it lacked the warmth that he had gotten used to. The familiarity. “Don’t worry Oswald, I’ll have someone else take care of this. What with you injured and all.”

“Someone else?”

Jerome gave a heavy sigh. “I thought you were special Oswald, but I’m not even the first to break you. I don’t want broken toys.”

Oswald was still sitting there when everyone started to clear out, including Jerome and he finally moved to his feet, moving awkwardly between being sore and his dick hard, and he followed the other inmates until he made his way back to his own cell.

Alone in it he sat on his cot and though he fought with himself for a few moments he finally let out a whine and slid his hand down his pants, stroking himself. It wasn’t about Jerome, it wasn’t about what he had experienced, he didn’t like being  _ humiliated _ it was about… just about physical touch. He came with a small cry, and it felt good even as he could feel tears pressing. 

He pulled his hand out and wiped it off on the sheets, burying his face in the pillow as he fought the tears. He was good at dealing with low lifes, with the criminal underground, but he wasn’t prepared for this combination of physical affection and sex, with the sheer instability of the other man. 

And maybe he was just as crazy because he had gotten what he wanted, or close to it. The man had let him go, set him aside, had chosen to find someone else to bother. Chose someone else to get physical with. He should be relieved. 

So why did it bother him so much?


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't blame me for the inexplicable use of miming, that was all Gotham. :D

The next day Oswald had no idea what to expect. He had cried himself to sleep, listening desperately to the cell next to him to hear if Jerome was in it. He thought he heard the man, but he couldn’t be sure, and he wasn’t sure when he had finally fallen asleep. 

He got to his feet, rubbing at his eyes when he already wanted to start crying again, and limped into the hallway. Jerome was there, in line, and his eyes glanced over him but didn’t stay there as he moved past Oswald. There was no arm around the shoulders, no good morning, and it felt weirdly lonely. 

There was some kind of be careful what you wish for, but he didn’t dwell on it. Too caught up in thinking about what was going to happen. 

He had gotten used to being told what to do, to having some sort of direction but he didn’t get any from Jerome. So he got his tray and his food, and with much less confidence than the previous days followed Jerome to his table. 

When they reached it he hesitated, and finally muttered, “Can I sit here?”

“Of course Oswald. All my friends are welcome to sit with me.”

Though it was the answer he had wanted, he was still uneasy as he sat down. He glanced around at who else was at the table, and was disgusted with himself when he realized he was trying to figure out who Jerome might have gotten physical with. Like he was a jealous girlfriend instead of someone that had been forced and humiliated. 

Maybe he was broken.

The next two days went the same. He noticed Jerome watching him a bit more, like he was waiting for something, but Oswald didn’t know what he was supposed to do. He still followed the man around, was allowed to sit with them at meals, but he wasn’t invited to Jerome’s shows. Didn’t have any special visitors in his cell. 

Part of him, a logical part, said that Jerome had lost interest in him. That the man was crazy and had his fun and now he had moved on and Oswald should just be thankful he made it out without being killed. There was another part of him though, an instinctual part, that was certain it wasn’t the end of it. The part that made him a good criminal, that helped him survive, was telling him that there was something going on and he needed to be ready for it.

It was why when Jerome’s eyes stayed on him a little too long at dinner, when the intent was all over his face, he knew he needed to do something to protect himself. It wasn’t that hard to switch cells, the guards at Arkham were ridiculously easy to bribe. Someone should probably look into it at some point. 

Though he felt stupid when he set it up, he was comforted by reminding himself the worst that would happen is he would spend a night hiding in one of the storage rooms, and best case he wouldn’t die if something did happen. 

It was gratifying, but somewhat frightening, when he watched Dietrich be dragged out his cell by Jerome’s henchmen. He followed quietly, keeping his head down so he wouldn’t be recognized as he watched them drag Dietrich to the middle of the room and shove him on the table, standing him up.

Jerome grabbed the uniform, eyeing the rope in his hand, “All right Oswald, old buddy, old pal. Tonight we are going to cure you, I think you’re a broken little birdie and there is no coming back, but I believe in second chances. So back to how this started, make me laugh or else. Let’s call this the sudden death round. It would really be putting you out of your misery at this point.” So caught up in his own speech it took a bit for him to realize the body in front of him definitely wasn’t Oswald shaped, even before the man pissed himself. He wrinkled his nose, confused as he pulled off the bag. “Dietrich?”

Oswald was already moving before he realized his plan wasn’t all that great, but it was all he had come up with on such short notice. Jerome moved faster than he expected him to, and there were sparks and he was pretty certain Dietrich was dead but Jerome was still standing there, staring at him. His heart sank as he realized it hadn’t worked and he was very likely going to meet his death right here in Arkham.

Jerome glanced at the body and took a step back, tilting his head to look at Oswald like he was just seeing him for the first time. “Okay.” He narrowed his eyes, “That was clever-ish.”

Oswald was in full panic mode and grabbed the first weapon he could, scrambling back and holding it up at Jerome. The man’s smile widened a little more, laughing at him. “Yea, that’s a spoon.”

Unfortunately he wasn’t wrong. Desperate he stuttered out, “It is also a f-fork!”

Jerome shook his head, “Looks like you have some fight in you still, Ozzy but it’s just too little, too late, too… boring. A little broken toy trying to keep going.” He moved closer to him and eyed him top to bottom, and it was impossible not to notice the leer but Jerome shook his head like he made his decision. He glanced at the others in the room, “He might be fun for someone, who ever wants the little bird can have him.”

Panic nearly short circuited Oswald’s brain and he threw his hands up, scrambling to come up with something. _Anything_. It was one thing when he was going to kill him but to offer him up like that, he’d rather be dead. “Wait, wait! You said this prison was all in my mind. Maybe I'm in a prison right now.” The only thing his mind could come up with that he thought might appeal to the other man was miming, and it was official. He had actually lost his mind. It didn’t stop him from committing to it though. “A prison where you can’t get to me.”

He pretended to move to a window, grabbed the bars, and even though Jerome impassively watched him he could see the twinge of interest there. He was sure it wasn’t his miming skills, and if he had to hazard a guess he would say that Jerome was just interested in the fact that he was doing something other than simper and cry. 

“Okay. You really are nuts.” There it was, a pleased growl to the words as the man grabbed something sharp and moved towards him. There was a quick thrust and it took everything in Oswald not to flinch, not to react. Mostly because either it would work and the man would want to play, or he’d kill him and both options were better than being passed around. His heart was hammering as Jerome’s weapon stopped short, the man doing it a few more times before looking up with confusion on his face. “Huh.”

Oswald tilted his head towards the side, and Jerome met his eyes, grin stretching across his mouth as he nodded. “Ah.” The man moved around his ‘prison’, though he never took his eyes off Oswald, and the hunger there was easier to see. He looked at Oswald like he wanted him and once the man was close he didn’t wait for him to decide what would happen.

His knee came up, catching Jerome in the stomach and when the man doubled over he brought it up again, catching him in the face. Jerome stumbled back into the table behind him but kept his feet, staring at Oswald as blood dripped from his nose.

He couldn’t contain his elation, it felt so _good_ to hurt the other man. “Try laughing now you ginger sap!” The joy started to curtail when no one around him reacted besides to frown, when Jerome was still there leaning against the table, watching him. He supposed he thought that would get a bigger reaction. 

Jerome rubbed a hand across his face and looked at the blood. “The bird can still fight if he is pushed enough.” He shoved off the table so he was standing and shook his head, “It’s just not enough to surprise me, Pengy.”

It looked like he was still going to die and suddenly he snapped out of the funk he had been in because there was no way The Penguin would be taken out by someone like this and he stalked towards the man who looked both like he expected Oswald to attempt to hit him again and also bored by the prospect. Oswald reached him and the last two days were heavy on his mind, he was confused and scared and he reached out to shove the man so he stumbled and half sat against the table before he dropped to his knees in front of him.

Without looking up at his face he reached for the button to the man’s pants, encouraged by the sharp intake of breath above him. He pulled the man’s cock out and leaned forward, stroking him before taking him in his mouth, clumsy and awkward, but he was damn certain the man hadn’t seen _this_ coming.

Above him it started out as a chuckle but soon there was a deep laugh from the man as a hand wove into his hair, fingers pressing gently against his scalp. It made his face flush, sure the man was laughing at him, laughing at his lack of skill but the cock in his mouth was hard and twitching like he was doing it right. 

Finally the laughter eased enough that Jerome spoke, breathless with mirth, “Oh Ozzy, you are full of surprises. I knew you would be once you just let go. See, I told you I’d cure ya.” 

He wanted to tell the man not to flatter himself. That he didn’t cure anything, that all he had done was snap Oswald out of it, but instead he just sucked on the man’s cock, letting the fingers in his hair control his movement, let himself be used. So maybe he had.

There was noise around him and he knew that they weren’t alone, that everyone was watching him debase himself, but he didn’t care. Jerome was touching him again and when he glanced up the man was looking at him with that fondness, was giving him all his attention and that was more important to him than it should have been. 

He lost track of time but then the man was cumming in his mouth and he choked and gagged but managed to not make an entire mess of himself. He was instantly dragged to his feet and Jerome gave him a quick kiss before pulling him in against his body, murmuring against his throat, “You did so good Ozzy, I knew you would. I’m so proud of you.” 

The touch, the words, after the last two days of loneliness felt so good and he found himself pressing into the touch, desperate for more of it. His face was tucked in against Jerome’s throat and there was something he needed to say. There was no hesitation as he spoke, quiet and clear, “If you try to pass me around like that again, I’ll gut you.” 

A surprised sound made it out of Jerome’s mouth before there was more laughter, nearly as hard as before, but the arms around him never loosened. They seemed to stay that way for a long time and Oswald was embarrassed to realize when Jerome finally pulled back that they were alone. That he had been so overwhelmed by the other man that he hadn’t even realized that at some point the man had sent everyone else away. Jerome’s hands slid to his sides and his thumbs rubbed over the hip bones there as he met Oswald’s eyes.

“Now that you got your teeth back Pengy, I can let you in on what I’m doing. And oh, wait until you hear the plans I have for this city.”

Oswald couldn't help tensing at the man's tone, at the dark promise in those words. He needed to get a letter to Ed, he needed to get out of this place. And he had a feeling he was running out of time before it destroyed him for good.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> real life is nearly as big a mess as life is for Oswald here. i'm so sorry for the delay, hopefully i'm back on track.

Jerome slung an arm around Oswald’s shoulders as they headed back to their cells, arm possessively tight and after long moments of silence Oswald managed to get up the nerve to ask. “Plans?”

“Righty, old boy. Spectacular plans. When I get back out there, when we’re done, the world out there - that will be the asylum.” His fingers tightened on Oswald’s shoulder, almost bruising when they reached his cell. 

Oswald wasn’t sure exactly what the man planned on doing but when Oswald’s cell opened he pushed both of them inside, nudging Oswald until he sat down on the cot, wincing slightly at how sore he was, and Jerome sprawled next to him, arm sliding back around his shoulders to pull him until he fell against him. Half lounged on the cot. 

What could happen made him nervous, and he tried to distract himself by concentrating on what Jerome was saying, “Why wait?”

“What?”

He shifted slightly so he could look at him, “Tell me something. You appear to have everyone here under your thumb. The guards, the inmates.”

Jerome grinned at him, practically preening at the words before he gave him a wink, “What can I say, I”m a charismatic guy.”

“You could escape at any time, why stay?”

“Hmm. Why indeed.” One of his hands slid around Oswald and under his shirt, tapping his fingers over his stomach. “You’re a smart boy, I’m sure you can figure that out.”

The fingers were distracting, the touch, but again he tried to focus. “You want to be in here.”

“See, I knew you were smart.” His fingers trailed slightly lower, still just gently stroking. “I’m in this funny farm because I need to find the creme de la crazy. Which is why I needed you.” Jerome leaned down to press a kiss to Oswald’s cheek, “Not the crazy I had expected to find from you, but I think I still have plenty of use for you.”

The hand slid down to under the band of his pants and Oswald couldn’t help it as he grabbed his hand, stopping him from doing more. He had been trying to sound unaffected, calm, but there was a whimper in his words, “Please, don’t.”

Jerome’s mouth was near his throat. “I thought we were past this Oswald, isn’t that what that was about back there?” He bit at his neck, sucking on it, shifting until his legs were around Oswald and the man was pulled against him, settled between them.

“Please, I’m not… I’m sore. It hurts.”

“Would I hurt you little bird?” The man went still for a second and added with a chuckle, “Maybe don’t answer that. But right now I won’t though, you gave me what I wanted. Laugh of the century. And a decent blow job. You deserve a reward I’d think.” Oswald dropped his hands, chewing on his lip and Jerome’s hand slipped down his pants until he could palm him.

And Oswald knew that he shouldn’t trust it. That it was going to be something else to hurt him with, some kind of trick, but he was having trouble holding onto that thought. They were alone in his cell, no one to humiliate him in front of, no audience, and Jerome’s touch was persistent but gentle. 

He tilted his head back to try to look at Jerome’s face, try to read it, and the man took it as an invitation for a kiss. Lips pressed against his, soft and gentle, biting down on his bottom lip until his parted with a small gasp. Previously Jerome had dominated the kiss, not giving Oswald much choice in what he was doing but his tongue coaxed at the other man’s and Oswald was timid but he kissed back.

Jerome made a pleased sound, and it made Oswald bolder, shifting his body so his legs were more open, pressing up into Jerome’s hand and he pressed his tongue into the other’s mouth. Licking at his palette like a kitten lapping at milk, and on a whim he bit down on Jerome’s lip like the man had, only for a second and he was rewarded with a groan.

The hand not down his pants wrapped tighter around his hip, and he could feel the man hard against him, rocking his hard cock against Oswald’s ass and the momentary pleasure he had hit a wall and he pulled away from the kiss, flinching. 

Jerome was at his neck though, shushing him, “You get under my skin, Ozzy. Why is that?” A kiss on his neck turned into a bite, hard enough to make Oswald whine. Jerome only pulled back enough to press another kiss to it once he let go. “I’m not going to hurt you, I promise Ozzy. Try to relax, this is supposed to be a reward.” Jerome's hand slid around him, rubbing at the sensitive underside, as his voice lowered, “This is because I like you Ozzy, that’s all.”

He rocked up into the touch, giving in to the words. There was no use in fighting, he wouldn’t win and if Jerome was being generous, why shouldn’t he enjoy it. Except a small part of him  _ knew _ why, a tendril of shame that he desperately pushed down. He’d never had trouble holding grudges, but he was struggling to remember that Jerome wasn’t his friend. That he was an enemy. That he had  _ hurt  _ him.

But Jerome pulled him tighter against him so he was cradled in the man’s arms, and after everyone in his life had abandoned him it was nice to be wanted. His pants were pushed down, Jerome using his own foot to catch them once they were down to his thighs, and shove them off. A quick tug to his shirt and that was gone as well, leaving him naked, skin against the scratchy prison uniform Jerome wore. He felt exposed, but the hand jerking him off picked up speed and he let his head lull back against Jerome’s shoulder. 

He was shifted a bit as Jerome pulled something out of his pocket, and his eyes darted to the bottle of lube, but Jerome only squeezed some into his hand and then picked up the stroking, sliding easier with lube and he couldn’t help it as his mouth fell open, moaning as he dropped his hands to Jerome’s thighs, trying to get leverage so he could rock his hips up. 

“See how nice it can be Ozzy, when you do as I say?” Oswald nodded against him and Jerome twisted his wrist into the stroke, giving an extra flick that had Oswald squirming. He was close to cumming already and whined, hips stuttering but as soon as they did Jerome slow down his strokes, making a tsk sound. “Not yet, Ozzy. I want to play longer.”

The slower strokes brought him back from the edge, and he tried to still his hips, to do as the man asked him to. Jerome leaned close against his ear, “I’m going to get a little more comfortable Ozzy.”

He barely heard the words, just nodded, hyper focused on the physical feeling. It was why it took him long seconds to realize that Jerome was stripping off his clothes behind, only really catching on when there was skin against skin.

“J-Jerome.”

The man’s cock pressed against his ass, an arm around his waist keeping him from pulling away. “You feel so good Ozzy.” He switched the hand that was stroking him, and his right hand slid lower between Oswald’s legs, fingers slick with lube just barely stroking. 

Sharp betrayal made him whimper, sniffling back tears, and his voice broke as he tried to talk. “Pl-please, you promised.”

Jerome’s voice was steady, challenging, “Am I hurting you?” 

Oswald took a moment to really think about it, and he was nervous, but Jerome wasn’t hurting him. So he shook his head. The fingers pressed a little firmer, still not hurting, and Oswald swallowed hard. 

“I just want to touch you Ozzy, I’ve missed you the last few days. I couldn’t even fuck someone else.” Jerome nuzzled against his neck, “I only wanted you.”

Any reservations he had about the fingers starting to press into him was lost as he turned his head to look at Jerome, taking in the man’s face, trying to judge how true the words were. Jerome’s face was open, no deceit there, and he was always honest with him even when he was telling him how much he was going to hurt him. “You didn’t…”

Jerome chuckled as one finger slid inside Oswald, and it was a little uncomfortable, but tolerable, especially as he focused on watching Jerome answer. “I couldn’t little bird.” He kissed up his jawline, “I only wanted you, everyone else was a poor substitute.”

He was being managed, he knew that he was. He knew it. It didn’t stop him from sighing, from his heart racing at the words, he had been right. Jerome wanted him, just him, and he was the only person in the world that probably did. 

So when one finger became two and it did hurt, he only moved gently against, because he wanted to make him happy. Jerome could feel him give in and there were quiet encouragements, telling Oswald what a good boy he was. 

“Am I hurting you Oswald?” A shake of his head, “Can I fuck you Oswald?”

Oswald wondered what would happen if he said no. And before he could think about it too much, could stop it, it was what was coming out of his mouth. “No.” The hand stroking his cock didn’t stop but the fingers inside him did and Jerome rested his chin on Oswald’s shoulder. He swallowed hard, “If you are asking, please not tonight.”

“I think I like you better when you have some teeth, birdie. And since I did ask.” He slid his fingers out, shifting and Oswald had the sense that he was stroking himself as well. “You’re more fun when you know how to say no.”

He waited for the other shoe to drop, for the pain to come, but Jerome only jerked the both of them off. “Come on Ozzy, come for me.”

The strokes sped up, thumb swiping over the head, but at the words. The permission. He cried out, cumming over Jerome’s hand, cock throbbing and kicking, and behind him he could feel Jerome tense as he came himself. 

He was still caught up in the adrenalin of saying no to Jerome, of saying no and having the man  _ listen _ to it, and maybe things had changed. Jerome moved so he was laying down, pulling Oswald to lay down next to him with his head on his chest, arm curled around him. Holding him close. 

Jerome’s hand stroked his hair softly as he pulled the thin blanket around them. Oswald wasn’t opposed to being held, but he wished he could get dressed. Jerome didn’t seem put off by his lack of clothes, but he was sure the man was a bit more confident than he was. Finally he setlled, closing his eyes.

And he knew it was coming. The man lived for the dramatic, for the timing, so once Oswald had fully relaxed against him, once sleep was just starting to take over Jerome tightened his grip and whispered, “So I’ll remember not to ask in the future, can’t say no then, can you?” He pressed a kiss to the top of Oswald’s head, “Good night Ozzy, sleep well.”

Oswald thought things would get better after he had made the man laugh, after he had his little breakthrough, but they didn’t. Just different. 

He woke up sometime early in the morning, too early for it to be time for breakfast yet with Jerome still holding him and he tried to stay relaxed, but those eyes popped open as soon as he moved, giving him a grin. 

“Good Morning little birdie.” Jerome tilted his head like he was considering his own words, “Want to give me a good morning song, birdie?”

In the time it took him to try to figure out if Jerome was serious or not the man rolled him on to his back under him, settling on top of him between his legs, crossing his arms over Oswald’s chest so he could rest his chin on them. Waiting.

It distracted him as it made their naked bodies rub together, Jerome pressing an already hard cock against him, and Oswald could only stare at him until the smile slid off the man’s face. One hand poked into Oswald’s chest, “Birdie. Sing.”

His mind had blanked though as he tried to stumble out the words to a song, any song, and found himself stuttering out the words from the song his mother used to sing him and it made him think of Ed. He didn’t want to sing that song  _ here _ , but it was all he could manage to think of, and it wasn’t like Jerome was paying attention to him anyways.

The man gave him a disinterested nod but was looking around the bed, making a small ah ha sound when he found the lube, grabbing it and sitting back on his knees. Oswald stopped singing, or muttering the words as it were, but Jerome waved his hand at him. “Keep going.”

Jerome pressed against his knees so he bent them, pushing them back, and the words faded into whimpers, sniffling. Jerome looked up and then a slap caught Oswald hard across the face, “Last time I’m going to say it Ozzy, keep going. I’ll tell you when you stop.”

He nodded, muttering the words to a jingle he’d heard in a commercial, anything he could think of and Jerome grinned. “Good boy.”

Two fingers slid into him without warning, making him jerk back, making his legs try to come together but a surprisingly gentle hand landed on the inside of his knee and pushed his legs back open. The fingers slid in and out, stretching him, pressing against that place inside until his own body responded. Until he was hard himself, despite the pain. 

The fingers were pulled out and he expected a third, but Jerome was lining himself up, the head of his cock pushing at the ring of muscle and Oswald struggled to keep words coming out of his mouth. Sure he was repeating the same line over and over. 

It hurt but not as bad as Oswald thought it would, and despite the force he began with Jerome was taking his time, rocking his cock into Oswald inch by careful inch, letting his body adjust and open up for him.

He was clearly concentrating on what he was doing, but he glanced up at Oswald with a fond smile, “Okay, okay, enough of the singing. What are you even saying?”

Honestly he had no idea. Jerome was nearly fully seated, and Oswald was starting to think the man had just been trying to keep him distracted to keep him docile, and well, it had worked. Carefully he lifted his hands to Jerome’s shoulders, curling his fingers over the man’s shoulderblades.

He could feel a tension in the man’s shoulders, like he was ready in case Oswald tried something but he just dug his fingers in enough to get a hold. Not participating, but not fighting him, trying to find the balance that kept him safe. Though it wasn’t just that, wasn’t just survival. Because Jerome had said he only wanted him, and maybe this is what a relationship was like. Oswald didn’t have much to look at, much to go by, and he was relatively sure they shouldn’t hurt you like Jerome hurt him, but the man cared for him too. That had to count for something.

“That’s my boy, Ozzy. You like it, tell me.”

Jerome had started to move, long slow strokes that hit somewhere between pleasure and pain and Oswald bit his lip until it nearly bled, trying to keep his words to himself, but he wasn’t able to keep his mouth shut. Not at the encouragement. “Yes, I… I like you.” He didn’t even know himself if the words were true.

It made Jerome’s mouth tilt up, mocking, as he leaned down to kiss him, pulling back to murmur against Oswald’s mouth, “Of course you do. Tell me you like me fucking you.”

Flushing, Oswald averted his gaze when Jerome met his eyes and he swallowed once before he got the words out, “I like this.” Couldn’t bring himself to say the other word and it made Jerome chuckle.

“So proper even when I’m balls deep in you, you are a special one Oswald.”

Jerome twisted his hips so he with every thrust he was stroking that place inside, slipping a hand over Oswald to stroke him with his rhythm, and it felt so good Oswald couldn’t help closing his eyes, letting his head roll back, the mewls making it out of his mouth definitely not pain. 

His orgasm came suddenly, his eye flying open, a hoarse cry filling the cell as he curled in towards Jerome, body clenching around him even as his hands scrambled to get a better grip, trying to pull him closer.

Jerome gave in to it, dropping to his elbows on either side of Oswald, covering his body, as he thrust a few final times, finally cumming deep inside Oswald, stroking a few more times before he finally dropped his weight, still fully buried in the other man. 

He was panting and now would be the perfect time for Oswald to shove a pen in his throat, but all he did was bury his face against Jerome’s neck and he shouldn’t give anything away. He was already so vulnerable and open, but if this wasn’t someone that wanted to be with him in that way he didn’t know what it was. So, flinching even as he said it, sure that humiliation and pain would follow he whispered, “Are we together?”

A sharp bark of laughter came from Jerome as the man pushed up to look at Oswald’s face, scanning over it until the laughter faded. Understanding seemed to dawn on him and he let his smile soften, though his voice couldn’t completely lose the mocking, “Sure, Ozzy. I’d say we are.”

His eyes darted over Jerome’s face, trying to read what he was really saying, but he really meant, but Jerome only leaned down to press a kiss to his mouth. His voice still carrying that undercurrent of laughter, “If I wasn’t your boyfriend would I fuck you like this?”

Oswald felt his eyesbrows come together, harder to think when Jerome rocked his hips as he spoke, pressing against where he was still inside him. It seemed that Jerome was waiting for an answer so he licked his lips and his voice came out soft. Confused. “No?”

“Exactly, Ozzy. Come on, let’s get a little sleep before we have to get up.” He glanced at the mess between them, “Ah well, we’ll shower later anyways.”

Though he let himself be manuevered where the man wanted there was something he couldn’t let go and he looked down at his hands, “If you’re my… boyfriend, you shouldn’t hurt me.”

A huff of laughter, “Been in many relationships, have you Ozzy?”

“Well, no-”

“Then how would you know what I shouldn’t do?”

Because he wasn’t stupid. Because he wasn’t that naive. Because you don’t hurt people you care about. The words bounced around his head but in the end he didn’t say any of them, because maybe he was wrong. 

Because he had read once that you accept the love you think you deserve and maybe, just maybe, he believed this was all he deserved.

When he woke up again he was alone, and it took him a few seconds to realize it was because the cells were being opened to head to the showers, and a glance around showed Jerome standing in the door watching him. The guard was already coming and Oswald realized he was still naked, flushing as he scrambled to get his clothes, pulling them on just as the guard arrived at the door, watching him with a raised eyebrow. 

It shouldn’t embarrass him, in a few minutes he would be at the showers and would be naked in front of everyone, but it still did. 

Through showering, and into breakfast Jerome never didn’t have hands on him. An arm around his waist, a hand in his hair, less innocent touches too. Palming over his ass in the shower, sliding a hand to cup him through his pants as he got dressed. More handsy than the man had been, but the touches were easy. Casual. Like they really were together and it wasn’t so bad. 

Breakfast was the same as usual and he was disappointed that there wasn’t some kind of surprise from Jerome, something special for him, though he was sure Jerome had planned on killing him the night before so it made sense that he wouldn’t have anything. He wasn’t even sure why he expected something. 

Jerome’s hand was on his leg, just above his knee, not hurting, not inappropriate and he gave him a tentative smile when the man gave it a squeeze. Perhaps he didn’t need the Riddler ot get him out. He knew that eventually Jerome would escape, would take him with him, and maybe now that what they were, their dynamic was clearer it wouldn’t be like before. 

It didn’t occur to him that he had never decided to like the other man, or that he wanted to be with him, wasn’t sure he even liked him that much because Jerome’s flavor of crazy was not the same as Oswald and the man scared him but Jerome did want him. And he did like that.

He was caught off guard as Jerome was pushing him to his feet, his gaze scanning the room to see what was happening, they had barely sat down to eat. “Jerome?”

“I got some business for a minute, not for birdie’s ears. Be a good boy and make yourself scarce for a bit.”

Oswald looked around the table, no one else was being asked to leave, and dread trickled down his back as he looked at Jerome, “What kind of business?”

“Some that doesn’t involve my dick, so not yours. Go.”

He physically recoiled at the words, dropping his gaze as he nodded, grabbing his tray to head to the other side of the room, not sure where he was going but needing to put space between him and the laughter. He ended up on the far corner of the room, dropping his tray and huddling in on himself.

After a few moments he finally took stock of where he was, and realized he could hear the guards talking on the other side of the wall. He glanced at Jerome on the other side of the room who didn’t seem to be in too deep a conversation and his mouth twisted but his attention snapped back to the guards when he heard Jerome’s name.

“-longer than the last one.”

There was laughter, “Penguin is faring better than the one Jerome had his hands on the other night, he’s still in the infirmary.”

A sound of agreement from the guard, voice dropped to a conspiratal level, “He said Penguin’s a special case. Kid gloves, he needs him once he gets out.”

“As long as he-” The guard abruptly cut off as there were footsteps and he heard them greet another guard that clearly wasn’t part of Jerome’s influence and the conversation dwindled to mindless chatter. 

Oswald felt like he was going to be sick. It was one thing suspecting he was being used for something, it was different knowing it. That he was a pawn. And that should be the thing he was the most upset about, but really it was hearing that Jerome had been physical with someone else. That he had lied to him about it. 

Another glance and Jerome was fully involved in the converation he was having and Oswald stumbled to his feet, swiping his arm across his face when he realized he was crying, but he approached a guard and used it to his advantage. 

“I don’t feel good, I think I need to see a doctor.”

The guard looked at him, and then over him to where Jerome was across the room, and Oswald made a note of which guard it was. He needed to start keeping track of which ones he couldn’t trust. 

“I’ll bring you back to your cell. If you’re still sick later, I can bring you.”

He tilted his head, trying to figure out that reasoning but then he got it. The guard thought he was going to report Jerome, or try something, and wanted to give the man time to probably intimidate him into submission. He was sure as soon as Jerome left breakfast he would be brought to his cell. He’d have to work fast, but panic was a great motivator. His plan had just been to get out of the cafeteria, but another plan came to him.

“Thank you.” 

The guard looked surprised at the easy agreement and to sell it Oswald wrapped his arm around his stomach, wincing as he sniffled back tears and the guard’s body language eased a little as he led him back to his cell. 

As soon as the door was shut he grabbed a piece of paper and a pen, writing down the note he had composed in his head, hoping that it would be enough. He read over it, making sure the message was clear without being too obvious. The actual message was to the Riddler but he would be lying if said that the other message to Ed wasn’t genuine. 

He addressed the letter, glancing fearfully at the door, worried that Jerome would catch him any second and if the man read the letter he doubted he would get the secret message - but what was written down would mean very bad things for him. 

But it was all set and he shoved it under his mattress, hoping he would be able to slip it out on the mailcart soon, and still the door remained closed. He let out a long sigh, some kind of guilt already starting to coil in his stomach at the thought that he was betraying Jerome, that he was writing to Ed when he knew the man would hate that. Even though he had betrayed him first. Which didn’t change that Oswald had some kind of feelings for him.

It was confusing. 

By the time Jerome was at the door, face serious and ready to cause damage, Oswald was curled up in his blanket in the corner of his cot, and it wasn’t a stretch to look miserable. Not when he couldn’t get his head together, not when life had spiraled so out of control.

At the display before him Jerome’s suspicious eased, “You left breakfast.”

“I didn’t feel good. I didn’t want to bother you. I didn’t know what you were discussing, didn’t think I should bring the guard’s attention to you.”

The man nodded at the guard and the door shut, and when he moved to Oswald his body was casual, relaxed as he sat on the edge of the bed. He patted next to him and Oswald obediently moved next to him. “Bullshit.” Oswald barely had time to react to that, to tense when Jerome playfully pulled him against him, hugging him. “You were hurt I sent you away, yes?”

It took Oswald’s mind a moment to catch up and he had to relearn how to breath when he realized he hadn’t been caught, realized what Jerome was saying. He swallowed hard and nodded. Jerome pet his hair, pulling him so he was nearly in his lap, completely surrounded by the other man. “I thought so. I’m here now Oswald, I’m not going anywhere. My sensitive little bird.”

He didn’t have to pretend to enjoy being held, to enjoy the attention. He could only hope that Ed would save him before he completely lost himself, he knew that the letter was a last desperate move. A hand ran through his hair, making him involuntarily sigh and press into Jerome, and if he was honest, he hoped it was soon because he didn’t think he had much time left.


	13. Chapter 13

“Something is wrong.”

Oswald darted his eyes to Jerome, the man lounged on his cot as he sat at the table, reading a book. Jerome had given it to him, a present for his bored little bird as he put it, and Oswald had started out in the man’s lap. And even though Jerome had said that he could relax, could read, wandering hands had him moving to the table instead. Surprised he had been allowed to. 

He set the book down, and swallowed hard before he met Jerome’s eyes, “I just wanted to read, I can come back on the bed if you -”

“No.” Jerome sat up out of the casual lean and Oswald responded in turn, shoulders going tense, readying himself for what might happen. Not that he could ever predict anything the other man did. “I don’t mean that. Something is wrong with you.”

There was a snort from Oswald that he couldn’t contain, because yea, there was definitely something wrong with him. He didn’t miss Jerome’s mouth quirk at the sound but then the intensity was back and he focused, remembering that his life was on the line. Maybe anyways, Jerome seemed pretty fond of him. Pain was definitely on the line though. 

His eyes dropped to the floor, “I don’t know what you mean.”

Jerome stood up, moving to stand in front of him and he curled in to himself, huddling in the chair. Jerome was eyeing him up and down like he was looking for an answer, looking for something that Oswald didn’t know himself. So he didn’t know how to give it to him. 

The longer the scrutiny went on, the more nervous he got, and he tried to think of what the man wanted. What he was looking for. He didn’t think it had to do with the letter he had sent to Ed, he had kept that hidden, had been careful about sending it off and besides, he was sure if Jerome had found the letter he’d be dead. Or wishing he was. To appease the man he pushed out of the chair, settling onto his knees, hoping the freely given submission was enough to distract him. 

Fingers grabbed under his jaw though, tugging up so that he met the man’s eyes, but they kept pulling up and he scrambled to his feet until he was standing, trying to shrink away but Jerome’s grip didnt ease. “I can tell, something's wrong.” Now that he was sure Oswald wasn’t going anywhere his grip eased, slipping around the side of his face to cup his jaw. He clicked his tongue, “I noticed it the other day, when I hurt your feelings at breakfast, and I thought it was because of that. But I’ve given you all my attention, Ozzy, and you’re still moping.”

It was impossible to keep the thoughts from showing on his face. He thought about what the guard had said, that he had been lied to, that he was being used and he scrambled to shove it down but he couldn’t before there was a flare of anger, of rage, that had him pulling away from Jerome and ducking his head. 

Jerome made a pleased sound, stalking forward towards him as Oswald gave ground and backed up against the wall. “That right there, Ozzy. That’s what I’m looking for. I’ve seen that peeking out, why don’t you tell me what it is about.”

He brought his hands up but Jerome shoved them away and cringed, “Please.”

It only made Jerome roll his eyes. “You are better than this Oswald, I haven’t hurt you. All I want is for you to tell me what you’re so upset about, there is no reason to cower.”

There was pressure behind his eyes, he was trapped, and he couldn’t get his mind to work fast enough to figure out what kind of answer would satisfy him. He opened his mouth but all that came out was a whine. Arms slid around his waist, hands stroking along his sides gently, and despite that he knew it was a trap he relaxed into the hold, dropping his head against Jerome’s shoulder, closing his eyes. 

Jerome nuzzled against him, “That’s a good boy, tell me.”

He worried his lip for a moment but finally couldn’t keep the words in. Jerome had a way about him that made him want to give in, made him feel safe and protected even when he was cowering from him. And he had been holding it in, hiding it from Jerome, and he should know better than to think he could hide anything from him. The words were slow to come out, stuttered, but he didn’t back down. “You, y-you lied to me.”

He felt Jerome jerk, his body tense, and it obviously wasn’t what the man expected. The hands held him tighter, but still not hurting, and his voice was clearly interested. “What did I lie about Ozzy?”

It made him think the man had lied about several things and wasn’t willing to give away anything that Oswald didn’t know about. His mouth twisted when he realized that he just didn’t care about that. He pressed in tighter, seeking comfort, afraid of what was going to happen when he said it. “You had sex with someone else.” His breath hitched, and it wasn’t fear that made it do it. Saying the words hurt. 

A hand slid up to the back of his head, tightening in his hair as he spoke against his throat. “And who told you that, little bird?”

It wasn’t a denial and a small sniffle made it out and until then he didn’t realize a part of him had been hoping it was a lie. It made him not filter what he said, “A guard. At breakfast that day, they didn’t know I could hear them.”

Jerome pet the back of his head gently, still no violence. “And what else did you over hear?”

Jerome didn’t move, didn’t seem to physically react, but Oswald could feel the rising tension. The danger. “That you were using me, that you needed something on the outside.” He pushed against the hand on the back of his head, trying to lean back enough that he could see Jerome’s face. The words sounded pathetic to his ears and he could feel tears welling up, “That’s why you are doing this to me.”

“No.” Jerome dropped his hands and took a step back. “I’m doing this with you because I enjoy fucking you. I wanted to recruit you, at first, but that was before I realized how entertaining you were.” He gave a little shrug, “And you will be useful on the outside, that was an added benefit. So I’ve treated you nice, Ozzy -”

“With kid gloves.” There was a snarl to the words and he saw Jerome’s jaw tighten for a moment.

“Someone is apparently very chatty.” The underlying violence colored the words but at least it wasn’t aimed at him. He eyed Oswald for a moment and then put a hand out in invitation and even though he should be wary he took it immediately, letting Jerome pull him close.

“Yes, I’ve been careful with you, Ozzy. That should be something you are grateful for.” A hand slid around his throat, pressing just hard enough for him to feel it. “You are a broken little thing and needed that kind of handling.”

“What do you need from me?”

Jerome waved a hand, “Don’t worry about it. We’ll talk about that when we escape. You don’t need to know the plan.”

Frustration welled up, because Oswald couldn’t plan for himself if he didn’t know what was happening, and that was probably the point. So he focused on the other part and his voice came out wobbly, clearly hurt, “But you did have sex with someone else?”

A huff from Jerome, “You could call it that.” He scrubbed one hand over his face like he was agitated. “I have needs and you were injured, it would have hurt you. And there are things that I don’t do with you, because I don’t want you permantely damaged.” 

Fear coiled in his stomach at the words, as he tried to imagine what Jerome might mean by that. “You said… you said…” 

Jerome reached up to wipe away the tears that slid down his cheeks. “It was a poor substitute. It wasn’t you, that is why I gave you another chance Oswald. Because I wanted it to be you.” He slid a hand up the back of Oswald’s shirt, pressing his hand against skin, trailing fingers around his hip. “Things are different now Oswald. We’re together, right?” 

Oswald pushed away Jerome’s hand, wiping the tears away himself. “How can I believe anything you say?”

Jerome shrugged and gave him that grin he hated, a cold chill to his words.“You’ll just have to trust me Oswald, because really, what other choice do you have?” The coldness disappeared quickly though, “Come here, let me do something special for you, show you that I’m being genuine.”

His stomach dropped as he was tugged towards the bed. He dropped his eyes, already pulling of his shirt, pushing at his pants as he crawled on the cot. There was no reason to pretend he was going to fight it. The sooner he gave in, complied, the gentler the sex was and after a few missteps he wanted ot keep it as gentle as possible. As gentle as Jerome ever was anyways. He was on his hands and knees when a chuckle behind him made him turn his head, Jerome standing next to the bed still fully clothed with his hands on his hips, laughing at him.

Flushing he sat back on his knees, hands awkwardly dropping to cover himself, which brought Jerome’s attention to between his legs and the laughter died off into a leer. “What an obedient little pet you are. Roll over onto your back, move up.”

He did as he was told, shuffling back on the bed until he was against the pillows. Jerome took his hands and pushed them down against the bed on either side of him, a quick too tight grip for a moment an unspoken command to keep them there and then Jerome settled on the bed between his legs, nudging them until he spread them a bit more.

There was no hesitation as he wrapped a hand around Oswald, stroking him carefully, a light barely there touch. Jerome moved until he was laying on his stomach, head propped up on one hand, all his focus on the smaller man.

Oswald squirmed, not sure what to do, tilting his hips up into the touch. Trying to offer himself so he would at least know what to expect. Jerome tsked at him, and he settled, chewing on his lip. “Jerome?”

The man chuckled, though his attention didn’t waver from Oswald’s cock, fist tightening just enough to give friction, watching him fill out and harden. Letting him know that he wasn’t going to explain himself, didn’t make it a question. And if he didn’t ask, then Oswald couldn’t say no. Oswald let his head fall back against the pillow, closing his eyes, just enjoying the sensation. There was something to be said for having such little control.

His eyes flew open when he felt Jerome press a kiss to his inner thigh, that was new. The man pressed another one a bit further up before he nipped at him and Oswald couldn’t stop the sound he made, the excited whine, as hot breath trailed over his dick. Jerome had only ever jerked him off, and usually only when they were in public, as a means to control him and humiliate him. Sometimes when he fucked him, making Oswald squirm and beg, but this felt different. Despite himself he couldn’t help whimpering out his name again, “Jerome.”

“I told you Ozzy, I want to show you that you’re special to me.”

Oswald nearly came off the bed when a wet tongue licked up his erection, sucking on the tip and Jerome’s hands went to his hips to hold him down. He whimpered, lifting his hand even though he knew it was supposed to stay at his side to cover his eyes, mewling at the heat and wetness around him. 

“I can’t…  _ I can’t _ …”

Though the words were barely whimpered out Jerome understood them, always was able to read him and the heat left his cock, just his hand stroking until he backed off of his orgasm, though instead Jerome bit at the tender place on his inner thigh, sucking until he left a bruise there. Soft words were spoken against his skin, “You are special Ozzy, you are such a good boy. My good boy.”

He moaned, pressing up against Jerome’s hands hard enough that there would be bruises, trying to rock his hips. Jerome’s attention turned to his other thigh, leaving similiar bruises. His toes curled and he moved his hand to look down at him, “Jerome, please.”

“Of course, sweetheart.” His mouth was back on him and didn’t back off even as Oswald squirmed and whimpered, and it was only a few moments before he was cumming, the other man not backing off as he sucked him through the orgasm. His body trembled with aftershocks, the edges of his vision blurry before he focused on Jerome leaning on his elbows between his legs, staring at him. 

Without giving it too much though, overwhelmed by the new sensations, he reached down to grab at Jerome and pulled him up, wanting to feel his body over his. Wanting to kiss him. Jerome let himself be pulled up, cupping Oswald’s face gently as he tilted his head, pressing their lips together. 

Jerome’s tongue slid into his mouth and he could taste himself, and it made him moan again as Jerome thrust down against him, rubbing his clothed cock against Oswald’s oversensitive skin. When Jerome started to pull back Oswald wasn’t sure what came over him as he bit at the man’s lip, drawing blood, before he pulled Jerome tighter against him. The blow job, the man doing something for him like that, and he could feel his last defenses that he was still holding on to collapse.

As soon as Jerome pulled away he whimpered out, “Fuck me.”

His eyes were closed so he missed the triumphant smirk on Jerome’s face, hidden from sight by time he opened his eyes as Jerome nuzzled against his neck. “This was about you, Ozzy. I don’t want to take advantage.” He stroked his hand down his hip, “I do want you though Oswald, I always want you.”

He was pulling away though and Oswald scrambled to keep him close, rewarded with another kiss. Tentatively he reached down to Jerome’s pants, pushing at the waist band, and it was the first time he had taken initiative. Part of him expected Jerome to stop him, but he didn’t, an after some fumbling the man was naked against him. A hard cock rubbing against his soft one was an interesting sensation and he whined, pressing up against him, even as he was oversensitive. When Jerome pulled back again he gave Oswald a nudge and he understood, shifting until he could roll under him, pressing his naked body back against him.

“Good boy, Ozzy.” Slick fingers pressed against him, sliding inside him, while Jerome’s other hand slid around his hip, stroking his stomach. Touching him as much as possible and it made Oswald melt into it. Always desperate for any affection. 

When Jerome finally slid into him it was slow, holding him still as he was opened up an inch at a time until finally Jerome’s chest pressed against his back. Jerome gave Oswald’s leg a small tug, getting him to straighten them out so he was flat on his stomach on the cot, stretching out so he completely covered him with his body as he moved with slow short thrusts. 

Though he had already cum Oswald could feel himself twitching at the gentle care, at the thrusts that dragged across that spot inside, and he mindlessly rutted against the sheets and then pressed up against Jerome. An easy haze falling around him at the movements, like it wasn’t even real. 

Jerome pressed a kiss between his shoulder blades and then the side of his neck, not doing much more than mouthing it as Oswald’s neck was already covered in bruises and bites. Jerome’s claim already staked many times over. 

It didn’t stop Oswald was tilting his head though, giving more access, a small whine of disappointment when Jerome pushed up to get more leverage to thrust into him. 

When Jerome came it was with a grunt, sinking as deep as he could into Oswald and staying there, shifting just slightly so he could lay over the other man. His hands coming up to cover Oswald’s on the bed. A content sigh slipping out of his throat at his prize, his little captured bird. 

Nothing bad had happened, Jerome hadn’t hurt him, even after he had stepped out of line and demanded answers. Demanded an explanation of why the man had lied. Oswald had been honest with him and all he had received in response was soft touches, care, and for the first time he really believed that this wasn’t just a game that Jerome was playing. That the man did have feelings for him. He turned his head so he could press a shy kiss to Jerome’s bicep, the only part he could reach from his position and settled into the touch. 

No fight left, and if he was honest with himself, he didn’t even remember why he was supposed to be. 

Weeks since he had mailed the letter to Ed, and it didn’t seem that it had worked. He had no way of knowing if it had reached him, if the man had read it, if the Riddler understood the message. And he had to face that it was probably a dead end. 

Things had changed though, almost the way he had hoped they would before. The way Jerome treated him had eased, mostly. The humiliations, the pain, were farther apart though he couldn’t be sure if it was because the man didn’t want to do them to him, or because he never stepped out of line. Was never anything other than the perfect pet. 

Because that was what Jerome wanted and Oswald wanted him to be happy, to want him, and that was something he could do. 

He still knew nothing about the plan, was still sent away anytime Jerome talked about it but he was sure that didn’t mean anything. He had settled into the way things were, and they weren’t so bad. Not compared to how most of his life had gone anyways. No one had ever stayed with him, cared about him, no one besides his mother. 

If it wasn’t perfect, if he couldn’t stop the fear that came with giving in to Jerome, it was still the best he had ever been offered. So he was… content.

And he almost believed that, which was why it startled him the way his heart raced and a thrill of hope appeared when he overheard the guards saying that Ed Nygma was coming in to commit himself. 

A carefully hidden part of himself, one that he tried not to think about, acknowledged that no matter what he thought was between him and Jerome, what he had convinced himself was there, the man had never made him feel the way Ed did. No one ever had.

His heart and his head ached, and he could barely contain his excitement.

Ed was coming to Arkham. And with a conviction that he didn’t know he possessed, Oswald knew that he was coming to save him.


	14. Chapter 14

Oswald was twitchy as he curled against Jerome during lunch. Glancing up the way he knew the entrance to be, trying not to be obvious. Trying to think of what he was going to tell Jerome because there was no way the man wasn’t going to notice that he was off. He needed the man to not bring him along today to his little show he put on, and the easiest way to do that would be to piss him off. Except that had an equal chance of him being dragged along and punished in person. 

The hand on his knee tightened and he knew he was running out of time, hyper aware of the warning signals from Jerome. He turned slightly towards him, and decided to be honest. Or as honest as he could. “Jerome?”

“Yes, Birdie, what is on your mind?”

The hand slid up his thigh, possessive and warning, and he let himself relax into it. Jerome wouldn’t hurt him if he gave him no reason to. “I’m tired Jerome, I’d like to stay in my cell today.”

“Oh?”

He ducked his head, didn’t have to pretend to be embarrassed as a flush traveled up his face at the next words, “I’m a bit sore from this morning, please.” Jerome had been rougher than usual, and he was actually sore, though he didn’t know what had brought it on. He glanced at the people around them, watching him with openly amused faces and he swallowed against the tightness in his throat. 

Jerome chuckled and the hand on his knee gentled but the words were meant to hurt, “You’ve been fucked so many times Ozzy, I can’t understand how you’d still be sore.”

His jaw clenched at the laughter, and it was on the tip of his tongue to point out he was sore because Jerome had pinned him down and fucked him with almost no lube, listening to him cry, but instead he turned further into the man, tucking his face against his shoulder. A hand stroked his head and the laughter around them instantly died down. He let out a sigh, already rethinking his plan to see Ed.

He wasn’t sure he still needed help escaping, not when he had Jerome. And he tried not to think too much about his feelings for Ed, that only caused heartache. What did drive him forward though, forced him to stay on with his plan was that if he did nothing Ed would be committed with them. He’d see him everyday. And though he had gotten used to it, at blocking out the mocking, the thought of Ed seeing him and Jerome together was too much. Made him sniffle, a lead weight in his stomach, to think of Ed watching Jerome fuck him, touch him. 

Especially since based on their last interaction the man would probably find it entertaining, and it was a degradation he couldn’t bring himself to bear. 

“Of course, Ozzy. I’m sure I can keep myself busy without you for an afternoon.”

His face was still tucked against Jerome but he felt his eyebrows coming together and he leaned back to look at his face, “What do you mean by that?”

Jerome just shrugged, watching him, and he chewed on his lip as he tried to figure out what to say. His voice lowered and he didn’t care what anyone around them thought about him, “You mean you will be with someone else.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“That’s what you mean though.” Another shrug from Jerome and panic seeped up Oswald’s spine, not sure what he was supposed to do. He realized that Jerome knew that he was up to something, was taunting him. He wondered if it was why the man had been so rough that morning but he hadn’t even known about Ed until breakfast, but that didn’t mean Jerome hadn’t heard sooner. 

“With me or in your cell, Ozzy.”

With a resigned sigh his shoulders drooped, deciding Ed seeing him like this was worse than Jerome sleeping with someone else. “Okay, I’ll stay in my cell.”

It wasn’t the answer Jerome wanted, he knew that immediately. Too late to change it now. The man’s face closed off and he pointed away from the table. “Go.”

“Jerome-”

The man was on his feet, dragging Oswald to his as he shoved him away, and though he might have been able to catch his balance Oswald let himself hit the ground, big eyes looking up to meet Jerome’s. Not bothering to wipe away the tears he could feel threatening to overflow. 

And there might have been an answering softness on Jerome’s face, something that eased and his voice wasn’t as sharp. “If you are tired go, my little bird. Get some rest.”

Oswald nodded and didn’t expect Jerome to grab him and help him to his feet but he did and without thinking too much about it he leaned forward to press their lips together, leaning into it for a moment before he stepped back. Jerome’s hand came up to cup his cheek, thumb stroking across his lips before he nodded and tilted his head towards the exit.

As he headed towards the door he wasn’t sure what happened behind him, a sudden wave of laughter, but he was used to that and didn’t bother to try to figure it out. It was certainly at his expense. 

He told the guard that Jerome had sent him back to his cell, intentionally picked one that he knew was lazy and loyal to Jerome, and was simply waved past him without an escort. And despite everything else it grated that no one considered him someone to be dangerous of anymore. From the King of Gotham, the mayor, to a nobody in an insane asylum. Worse. To the simpering Pet of an inmate in an insane asylum.

It was confusing to have the feelings rise up, he had settled so carefully into the life he had now, and the only reason he could fathom that he would struggle was that the thought of Ed so close brought out a part of him that he didn’t think was there anymore. That he was sure he had pushed so far down it wouldn’t rear its head. He wished he had never sent the letter.

He crept through the halls, trying to look like he was allowed to be there, to not draw attention, until he could see the entrance. He had no idea what time Ed would arrive and wasn’t sure what he would do if he was caught, if it got late enough that he had to go back to his cell because he couldn’t risk Jerome catching him not there. 

As he moved though, for once it seemed like luck was in his favor, because down the hall he could just make out Ed’s voice. There was a murmur from someone else in the room and when the door opened Oswald ducked down a hallway, waiting for them to pass before he headed as fast as he could, eyes landing on Ed through the haze of the frosted glass on the door.

He scrambled for the door and swung it open and until he stood there in front of him he hadn’t believed he was real. Ed’s eyes widened, shoving to his feet as well, preparing for an attack. Oswald couldn’t help the words from spilling out, his voice high pitched like a little kid, overwhelmed to see Ed, “I knew you’d come. I knew you’d understand my letter.”

Ed was shaking his head, confused as he eyed him. He didn’t miss as the man’s eyes landed on his neck though, moving up past the hickies and bites to the bruises on his face, there so often that Oswald forgot about them “How did you know I’d be here?” His eyes left the bruises to meet Oswald’s eyes, “What are you talking about?”

Oswald shook his head, tilting his head as he stared at Ed, trying to see the other side of him. Trying to see that dark shadow. “I’m not talking to you Ed, I’m talking to  _ him _ .  _ He _ read my letter.” He enjoyed the lost look on Ed’s face, no matter the purpose of him being here it was satisfying to pay him back for the glee he had at Oswald’s capture. 

Ed’s head was tilting, looking at nothing, or Oswald knew him well enough to guess that he was talking to his other self and he was  _ so close _ . Oswald looked where the other man was, and wished he could see what he was seeing. His ally. It struck him hard that the Riddler had chosen him as an ally, had come for him and his voice softened with awe. “He read my letter.”

Ed didn’t like whatever he was hearing and he spun to face Oswald and poked him in the chest, hard enough to make him stumble a step, “You… you’re wrong! I am Ed, Edward Nygma, that is it. Lee believes in me, she sees me for who I am.”

Oswald nodded, unable to stop his entire body from relaxing against Ed, always unable to resist anything about the other man. He’d be embarrassed by it, but Ed was too caught up in his own panic to notice. He tilted his head and searched Ed’s face and now he could see it. Shining back in his eyes, looking right at him. The Riddler. “But I see  _ him,  _ Ed.”

“No.”

“Lee Thompkins may have made Ed strong, but I see the other you.” His words gained more force, being with Ed made him remember who he was, made that sense of self creep back in even if only for the moment. “One whose name I wouldn’t speak. But because he has earned it,” he looked up, didn’t bother to hide the pleading on his face, knew how pathetic he looked, “and because I need him, I’m saying it now.”

“No, please, please don’t.” Oswald couldn’t stop if he wanted to, all he wanted was to see those hard eyes looking back at him, and he grabbed on to his shirt, holding him close so Ed couldn’t pull away.

“I need you, Riddler.”

The hands that had been trying to push him away slid up to cup his face, holding him still as there was a struggle on the man’s face. The fingers tightened until they were going to leave bruises, and despite how well this had gone there was a sick sense of dread in his stomach because how would he explain the bruises to Jerome.

Finally The Riddler settled, standing up straight, all of the confusion and softness gone from his face. Staring down at Oswald, and his hands didn’t drop, only moved to stroke over the bites on his neck and before Oswald could say anything, could react he was roughly shoved backwards until his back hit the wall, making him huff out a surprised puff of air.

And maybe this was it, maybe he had greatly misjudged what the Riddler wanted, maybe he was still angry with him and this was all going to go badly. But Riddler only used his grip to tilt his head up and snarled, “ _ You are mine _ .” 

Lips hit his roughly, the force surprising him and knocking his lip against his teeth, splitting it open, reopening a healing cut that had been there. He opened his mouth under the onslaught on instinct before he thought about it, trained the last few weeks to give in to that violence so it didn’t get worse. 

Ed’s tongue was in his mouth, possessively licking across every surface, by time his mind finally caught up with what was happening. He was still holding his shirt and tried to push him back but a growl against his mouth and hands sliding down to tighten at his throat made him relent, whimpering.

With no choice but to accept the kiss he focused on the feel of it, and he had spent so much of his time imagining this exact moment, that it only took a few seconds for him to close his eyes and lean into it, giving in to the other man. 

When he pushed him away the second time it was because he couldn’t breathe and though Riddler didn’t move right away, spent a few more seconds, he finally pulled back and dropped his hands. Oswald panted, staring at Ed, not sure what had happened or what he was supposed to do. “Ed?”

“You are mine, Oswald.” There was a derisive sound, “You should know that.” 

Oswald’s mouth opened and then closed, face twisted up as he tried to decide if he was confused or angry. “What?”

“That’s why I’m here.” There was a vague wave as the bruises on him, “The marks are obvious, it’s obvious you’ve been giving yourself to someone else.”

He settled on anger, “This was a terrible idea. I knew you were crazy, but I didn’t realize you were  _ crazy. _ I am not yours.”

He moved back into his space, pressing their bodies together as he met Oswald’s eyes, hands coming to settle on his hips, voice confident, “You wish you were though, Oz. So I’m going to get you out of here and then you will be.”

Oswald stared at him, completely at a loss for words. Especially because the man looked serious and the thought of being with Ed, of the two of them finally being together, was enough to make his heart race. Their bodies were pressed intimately together and Oswald wished he would just give him a little room to think. He knew he was blushing but he fought it down. “I… I just need you to help me escape. That’s all th-this is.” The words could have come out sterner, more confident, but instead they sounded like they were begging. 

Ed’s mouth only twisted into a dark grin, dangerously similar to Jerome’s and he tilted his head down. “We’ll see.” One of Ed’s hands came up to Oswald’s chest, fingers just barely pressing, “First we’ll get you out though. So tell me Oswald, what is keeping you in here?”

Though he was unsettled by the behavior, by what he was saying, he quickly explained about Martin, that he needed him to be safe before he could do anything. Ed looked bored, but was attentive and when Oswald stopped talking he nodded. “Easy. I’ll take care of it and then I’ll take care of getting you out, Oswald.”

It was on the tip of his tongue to say that he didn’t want to escape anymore, at least not without Jerome, but his body was strung tight and he knew he was covered in bruises, and it was difficult not to be enticed by Ed. He looked away, “You’re just helping me escape, that’s it.”

“Of course.” He pushed away from him and waited for Oswald to move out from in front of the door, “Well, we’ve got work to do.” Oswald was still unsure, wishing he knew exactly what he had started here. Ed’s eyes met his, “Trust me, Oswald.”

Ed eyed him top to bottom again, not bothering to hide the possessive look and Oswald found himself wrapping his arms around his stomach. It was so far from what he had expected, he was still coming to terms with what him and Jerome were doing, Ed pursuing him like this was just too overwhelming and he could feel himself shutting down. “Okay.”

Ed moved out of the room first and Oswald came out behind him, eyes on the floor, though he stumbled to a stop when he ran into Ed’s back, not sure why the man wasn’t moving. “Ed?” He looked up and then past him and he thought for sure he was going to throw up. Jerome was standing in the hallway, leaning against the wall, watching them.

Oswald swallowed hard and closed his eyes, this was going to be so bad.


	15. Chapter 15

Finally Oswald opened his eyes, cringing, but when his eyes landed on the two men the first thing he realized was that neither of them looked surprised to see the other one. With a sinking feeling he let his eyes settle on Jerome. 

Ed started to move forward, approaching the man and Oswald was frozen to the spot for a few moments before tentatively moved forward, dreading what was to come. When they were only a few paces away Jerome’s eyes went to him, looking him up and down before his jaw clenched, and his eyes went to Ed.

“I’m pretty sure I told you not to touch him.”

Ed shrugged, meeting Jerome’s eyes, settling into a stare off between them. Oswald didn't know where to go, who to look at. He wanted to drop his eyes to the ground but he was afraid of what was going to happen. 

“Oswald and I are old friends. I was just saying hello.”

Jerome’s lip curled and he broke the stare to turn to Oswald, “Come here little birdie.”

He moved instantly to his side, brushing past a tense Ed, and he tried not to flinch at the violence he was sure was going to come. Jerome’s hand came up to the side of his face before sliding around to thread through his hair and instead of violence Jerome tugged him closer, “It’s okay, Ozzy, come here.”

He whined, desperately hoping it wasn’t a trick and curled into Jerome, pressing his face against his shoulder. Blocking everything else out. It was so much easier than trying to deal with it. 

Over his head he could feel the tension, was sure the men were standing off but Jerome’s hands never tightened on him and he stayed curled where he was. Finally behind him there was an aggravated sound and he knew whatever battle of wills was currently happening Ed had lost.

“If you still want my help, I need to get to work.”

Jerome moved, pulling Oswald with him, like he was making room for Ed to pass. “Of course. We’ll be seeing you soon.”

Oswald tried to pull back, maybe planning to look at Ed, maybe to say goodbye out of habit but the hand holding him did tighten painfully then and he whimpered and went still. The footsteps faded down the hallway but it was still long moments before Jerome’s hand loosened and he gave Oswald a small push, making him step back. 

He was terrified to meet his eyes and stared at his shoulder, body starting to shake with tears. Jerome’s voice was soft but he had no doubts of the danger in it, “You don’t look very tired, Ozzy.”

The tears came fast, panic and fear making him unable to control them, lifting his arm to sob into his elbow. Between sobs he managed to whimper out, “I’m sorry.”

Jerome’s hand slid around his face to cup his jaw, tilting Oswald’s face up so he could see him. Jerome’s eyes stayed on his lips, he knew they were red and swollen from the kiss, and then his fingers slid over the bruises on the side of his neck, just starting to show up. His voice was a growl, “You let him touch you like this Ozzy?”

“Please.” He didn’t understand what was even happening. “I don’t understand…”

“Which part? Where you lied to me to scurry away to make out with your Ed? Because that part is what I’m upset about too, Oswald.” He traced his thumb over Oswald’s lips, “Though I think that you probably want to know how your Ed and I know each other, yes?”

He didn’t even nod, even though that was what he wanted to know, terrified to do anything that might set the other man off. Instead of answering he tried to curl back into him, trying to nuzzle against his neck, desperate to calm him. 

Jerome laughed at him, yanking him back with his grip on his hair. “Oh Ozzy, we are well past that working.” He dissolved into tears again, crying so hard he swayed on his feet and Jerome sighed as an arm slipped around his waist. 

“We can’t stay here. Come Ozzy, we’ll talk about this in our cell.”

An insane urge to laugh welled up in Oswald’s chest at the use of the word _our_ , he wasn’t even allowed his own cell anymore. He felt left out, he felt used. It didn’t stop him from leaning into Jerome though, reaching out to grab onto the bottom of the man’s shirt, trying to press into him as much as he could.

They passed a guard at the end of the hallway, clearly the look out, and his stomach twisted harder, stumbling. Jerome had known all along what he was doing, where he was going, probably long before he had known. The words slipped out, wobbly and barely discernible between the tears, “Are you going to kill me?”

“Of course not, Oswald.”

“Are you-”

A hand came up to slam over his mouth, Jerome not even looking at him. “I said we will talk back at our cell. That means shut the fuck up Ozzy.”

The hand dropped and he tucked his head, keeping his mouth shut. He already knew that he was in trouble, there was no reason to make it worse. He did try to control the sniffling, huffing out frantic puffs of air as he tried to breathe calmly. 

Next to him Jerome leaned a little closer, a little less tension in his body as he murmured, “That’s a good boy, try to calm down.”

It was silent as they moved, though Oswald would have rather heard the man ranting at him, threatening him, this felt more dangerous. Twice he almost tried to talk to him, but his nerve failed and he simply ducked his head down to wait for what would happen. 

It took him longer than it should have to realize they weren’t heading towards the cells, that they were heading towards the cafeteria and he couldn’t help it as he began to sniffle. Despite what Jerome had said he whimpered out, “You said we were going to go back to my cell.”

“No, I said we would talk back at your cell. We are going to do other things first.” Jerome’s eyes met his, dark and dangerous. “Things that you don’t need to talk for.”

“Jerome-”

“I mean Ozzy, you seem so set on sharing yourself, I thought I’d help you along.”

He stopped moving, nearly dropping his weight when the other man tried to pull him forward, until Jerome was forced to stop as well. He tried to pull up the anger, the certainty he’d had the last time Jerome had tried something like that but the last few weeks had dulled it. Still he stuttered out, “I t-told you what would happen if you tried that.”

Jerome used his hold to pull Oswald to him until their bodies were closer together, one arm around his waist to keep him there, “And I believed you Ozzy, at the time. Now…? Go ahead. Do something. I’ll wait.” When he simply stared at him he sighed and dropped his arm from around the man’s waist, grabbing onto his elbow with a punishing grip instead, “Right. So what do you want to perform Ozzy?”

“I will not.”

Jerome shrugged one shoulder, “You do not need to participate in several things to perform them, if you really don’t care to have a choice.”

“Please don’t do this Jerome, please. I’m yours.”

“I thought that was true Ozzy,” He startled when he was suddenly shoved against the wall, knocking the breath out of him and making his head snap against it as the mask of calm lifted and all that was left was rage. “And then you _lied_ to me and ran off for a visit with your _Ed._ You let him touch you, let him kiss you, that doesn’t sound like you are mine, Oswald, does it?”

“It wasn’t like that, I didn’t know he was going to ki-”

“Did you know he was going to help you escape without me?”

Oswald’s mouth snapped shut, making a face as he tried to come up with some kind of explanation, some kind of excuse but he was struggling. He could honestly argue that he hadn’t known that Ed wanted him _that_ way, but he had known why he brought him here. Finally, voice quiet, he muttered, “I sent the letter a long time ago. Before things changed. When I found out you had been with someone else.”

“I know. You think you could have done anything in here without me knowing?” He slapped Oswald in the face and grabbed his hair, yanking his head back and leaned against his throat. “I read your letter, how do you think I knew how to contact him? I can write letters too Oswald.” He shoved him aware carelessly, “And more effective. I could make an actual plan while all you could do was simper and beg and hope.” 

“Jerome-”

“And then you still met with him today. I gave you a chance to make it right this morning Oswald, all the chances in the world but you still lied to me.”

He was honestly surprised he wasn’t already dead. He tried to sink down to his knees, but Jerome grabbed his uniform and kept him on his feet pressed against the wall. His tongue felt thick in his mouth, he couldn’t breathe, and belatedly he realized he was having a panic attack.

Jerome didn’t seem to care, dragging him along, until they were just outside of the cafeteria. There he pressed Oswald against the wall again, waiting until his eyes focused on him, finally grabbing his jaw to force the eye contact. 

“Pl-please-”

“Please what, Oswald? Please forgive you? Please let you go? Please let you make it up to me by letting a few of my men fuck you?”

He shuddered at the thought of it, and crying ducked his head against his chest, unable to look the other man in the face. Desperately wanted to go back to the safety and contentment he’d had with the way things had been. 

Jerome made an impatient sound, “Well?”

Oswald choked on his tears a little, swiping at his face, “If I… after? I will be yours again after?”

“Is that important to you, Ozzy?”

When Oswald tried to move closer Jerome let him, until he was pressed against him, face against his neck, clinging. “Please.”

“So you will do it then? Let them have you as I please?”

A sob caught in his throat but he nodded because no matter how awful it was, how unthinkable, he couldn’t handle going back to the coldness. To being alone. “Anything.”

“Oh, birdie, you are so desperate to be wanted you break for anyone that gives you just a little bit, don’t you? I’m not sure you could have resisted Ed even if you wanted to.” The hand that cupped the side of his jaw was gentle and Oswald whined, pressing into it. “Come on.”

He pulled them into the room and Oswald shied away, but didn't fight him. Jerome caught the eyes of one of his men, “Get the video camera.” He cupped Oswald’s face so their eyes could meet, watched the realization cross his face. “I don’t think it is you that needs to be convinced you belong to me. I think that is something I need to teach the Riddler, yes?” He gave Oswald a shove towards the table in the middle. “Get up there.”

Crawling on the table he stayed on his knees in the middle of it, watching as Jerome got things set up, swiping at the tears on his face. Without the other man touching him his thoughts were a little more jumbled as he tried to convince himself that he wasn’t going to do this. Not without a fight. 

But when Jerome finally stood in front of him, and he could see the camera was recording he just looked at him. The man waved a hand at him, “Stand up, get undressed.”

“Jerome-”

“Now.”

Frantically his eyes darted around the room, not looking for help - he knew he wouldn’t get that, but trying to figure out who Jerome would let touch him. Who would be responsible for his violation and even as he started to pull off his clothes he sobbed, making his body shake and his hands fumble.

Jerome watched him with that sneer tilting his mouth up as he dropped into a chair, slipping his hand in his pants to palm himself as he watched Oswald. Once the man was naked he tilted his head, “How many do you think you can take Oswald? In a row? At once? Do you want to find out?”

Oswald was so far gone he couldn’t even pick up on the mocking in the words, hands covering himself, not sure what else he was supposed to do. If he was supposed to just wait there until Jerome picked someone and he was crying so hard his vision was blurry.

He did feel something hit him in the stomach and he flinched away before he looked at it, a tube of lube, and raised his eyes to Jerome. The man motioned at it, “Go on.” Oswald flushed even more, refusing to look around at the others anymore, and when he didn’t move Jerome shrugged. “That’s the only prep you’re going to get Birdie, I’d highly suggest that you use it.”

With tentative shaking hands Oswald picked it up, trying to force his mind to shut down as he put it on his own fingers, sliding them behind him, wincing when he remembered he was still sore. A tsk from Jerome brought him back, not letting him block it out. Making sure he was present for it. 

Probably too soon he dropped the lube, pulling his fingers out to wrap his arms around himself, but he just didn’t care if it hurt. He just wanted to get this over with, didn’t want to think anymore about that the man was right. It didn’t take much to break him, even knowing it didn’t make a difference.

“Come here, Ozzy.”

The affection in the words did catch his attention and he scrambled off the table to his knees in front of Jerome, staring up at him, focusing on the smile on his face. “Jerome?”

“You are mine, aren’t you Ozzy? Just mine?”

“Yes, yours, all yours.” He shuffled forward, nuzzing against the hard on the man had, pressing as close as he could. 

Above him there was a pleased sound, Jerome shoving his pants down to his thighs, releasing his cock. Oswald leaned forward to lick at it without thinking, sucking on the head, gripping Jerome’s thighs to give him leverage. 

“That is my good boy. You looked so sad up there Ozzy. I know, it’s only my cock you want, yes?” When Oswald didn’t respond he grabbed his hair, pulling him off his dick, forcing him to look up. “Say it.”

“I only want your…” Even after everything he still choked on the word, embarrassed to be so vulgar around so many people. “I only want your cock.”

“Then what are you waiting for?”

He patted his lap like he was calling a dog and Oswald scrambled to get on his lap, wincing when his bad leg was shoved up at an awkward angle, but he didn’t care. With help from Jerome he settled his body over the man’s cock, sliding down in one suddenly painful movement. He whimpered and sniffled but didn’t try to pull away. He moved until his balance was slightly better and helped by Jerome’s hands he lifted up, sinking back down, scrambling at his shoulders to get better leverage.

Jerome was talking against his throat in between bites, about how much Oswald must love to have all these people see that he belonged to him, about what a good pet he was, and he only moaned against him, desperate for those words to be true.

He was concentrating so hard on his movements he wasn’t ready for Jerome to push him up until he was standing, but only for a second before he turned him and pulled him back down, Jerome slipping to the edge of the chair with Oswald’s back to his chest. 

Leaning back with his knees spread as the man fucked him it was less pressure on his bad leg even as he realized he was more exposed, but without the ache in his leg and his body getting used to the stretch it started to feel good and he turned his head into his shoulder. Couldn’t muffle the pants though, especially once one of Jerome’s hands slid around him to grab his dick, stroking him in time with his thrusts. 

“Don’t worry Oswald, I won’t let anyone touch you. You belong to me and only me.”

The relief that it was Jerome fucking him, that he wasn’t going to be passed around and he pressed harder into the touch around him, grateful and overwhelmed and he whimpered as he struggled to get closer, rocking his hips even though in this position he couldn’t do much. 

He tried to muffle his sounds but Jerome cooed at him, “Come on Ozzy, let me hear you, let me hear how much you love it.”

“Yes, yes, please.” His own dick was hard, Jerome’s fingers sliding over the head making him moan and cry out, and he wasn’t even sure what words were coming out of his mouth. Sex still threw him off kilter and doing so with such an adrenalin rush, with the fear and dread and maybe a little bit of seeing Ed, and he quickly loss the control he was trying to hold on to. 

“Come for me, Birdie. Show me how much you enjoy this.”

With a small cry he was cumming, jerking in Jerome’s hand, cum over the man’s fingers and onto his stomach, body clenching. Jerome lifted his hand up and Oswald obediently licked his fingers clean, barely registering when Jerome’s grip on his hip tightened and the other man came as well, grinding up into him. 

His head lulled back against Jerome, and he opened his eyes to look at him, not sure when they had closed. Jerome wasn’t looking at him though, he was looking at the camera still filming them and Oswald caught the man wink at it before he was sitting up, tumbling Oswald suddenly off his lap onto the floor. “Get dressed Ozzy.”

It took him a few moments sitting on the floor to get his wits and he crawled over to the table, glancing around as he pulled on his clothes, immediately moving to Jerome once he was dressed. He flinched as he got close but Jerome only tucked him into his side, barely paying attention to him as he spoke with his men, telling them they knew what to do with the tape, and only then he turned his attention to Oswald. “Let’s go.”

He would never get used to it, the way the man could turn on or off his emotion, that he could be affectionate and having sex with him one second and cold the next. He was still reeling and tried not to question it too much as they left the room, Jerome’s arm tight around his shoulders. It had gone less painfully than he had been expecting. They were heading to their cells and even though he knew he shouldn’t relax, part of him started to, sure that Jerome had gotten what he wanted.

When they reached his cell the door opened and he was shoved in hard enough to make him stumble. He got his footing and turned to look at Jerome who was still standing in the doorway. “Are we going to talk?”

“No, Ozzy. Not right now. Maybe in a few days.” Confused he tried to move towards him but the man held up a hand, “Just because I couldn’t bring myself to let anyone else touch you, Ozzy, doesn’t mean you won’t still be punished.”

“I was just…” He thought back to what just happened, the humiliation, and he winced, “What do you call what just happened? Haven’t you already punished me?”

Jerome glanced the way they had come from and back, a mocking grin on his face as he chuckled. “That? Oh, that wasn’t about you at all Ozzy, that was more as a lesson for your friend. A little reminder for _Ed_ about what could happen.”

“Then what-”

“See you in a few days Oswald. Plenty of time to think about what you did.” Jerome stepped back and the cell door slammed shut leaving Oswald all alone. Jerome’s laughter made it through the door before it faded away down the hall.

Oswald stared at the door, trying to wrap his mind around what was happening and muttered to the empty cell, “A few days?”


	16. Chapter 16

The rest of the day Oswald watched the door expectantly, sure that Jerome was just letting him wallow, and would retrieve him quickly. He was sore, and upset, and couldn’t think about anything other than the sick feeling that he had betrayed Jerome. Knew that the man took care of him, cared for him, and he had stil gone to meet with Ed. He should be ashamed of himself.

When the entire day passed and he wasn’t retrieved for dinner, when it was night and he still hadn’t seen Jerome, dread started to settle into his stomach.

He sat by the grate on the floor, begging Jerome to talk to him, telling him he was sorry, telling him he would do anything to make it better, but there was no response.

Laying in bed that night he couldn’t sleep. He was uncomfortable, aware that cum had dried along his thighs, his own cum on his stomach, and there was only so much he could clean up by the small sink in his room. 

It made him think about exactly how that happened. And he couldn’t let the thought of the video camera go. He had known, had understood, but hadn’t really comprehended. Now he did though. Realized it had been a threat to Ed, had been Jerome bragging to taunt him, and there was something deeply unsettling about being reduced to nothing more than a tool the other man used. And without Jerome there to distract him, to comfort him, to whisper in his ear he had no choice but to face it. And that was without even thinking about what Ed would think, to see him act like… the humiliation was so strong he thought for sure he was going to be sick. He turned his face into his pillow, unable to stop the sobbing.

At some point he must have fallen asleep because he woke up tangled in the sheets. His eyes felt swollen, throat sore from sobbing. He looked around the room before he crawled out of bed towards the grate, leaning against the wall next to it. 

“Jerome?”

There was no answer and he chewed on his lip, swallowing hard even though it made his throat ache. He tried again, “Jerome, please.”

There was still no answer, not even the hint of a sound. He lowered to his stomach to look through and couldn’t see anything. With a sigh he sat back up, pulling his knees up and wrapping his arms around his legs. 

He wasn’t sure how long he stayed there, but eventually there was noise in the hallway and he pushed to his feet, sure that they wouldn’t deny him food a second day. His door didn’t open though and he pushed up to his tiptoes to look out the small opening and startled when he found it covered. 

“Hello?”

He tried to poke at whatever was covering his door but it was solid and didn’t move and he tried to choke down this new level of panic. His stomach grumbled at the thought of not getting to eat, and he wished now that he had at least eaten more the day before at breakfast. He waited at the door until it was silent, and a few minutes longer, until the last bit of hope he had at being let out faded. 

He paced his cell a few times before dropping back onto his bed. Jerome had said a _few_ days, but he couldn’t really mean that. He knew that he’d done something bad, understood the man was angry with him, but to be left alone? He fought back the tears, he had already spent a day crying, and he tried to pull himself together.

When he had calmed down a little he tried to comfort himself that Jerome wouldn’t leave him too much longer. He cared about him, he surely missed Oswald. That was what he had said when they had been on the outs before, that he missed being with him. He had to now as well. He thoughtfully chewed on his lip, he knew that he missed Jerome. 

He racked his brain trying to think about what the man wanted from him. What he wanted him to say, what he was supposed to do and by mid afternoon when he listened to everyone head to lunch, he was starting to feel a little desperate. He had water, so that soothed some of his panic, but at the back of his mind he couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if no one ever came back for him. 

Would he starve to death in this little cell? His stomach ached with the physical pain of hunger, but it was nothing compared to the hurt in his chest at the thought that Jerome would care so little as to leave him there. 

Forcibly he shook his head. No, this was a punishment, and one that would be over soon. Jerome wouldn’t forget about him. 

He sniffled, curling up tight on his bed, and urged his stomach to stop hurting.

That night after he heard everyone come back from dinner he laid by the grate, crying and begging Jerome to at least talk to him. Say anything. Through his door he couldn’t make out voices, unable to handle the silence with nothing to do but dwell on his thoughts.

The morning of the third day he didn’t bother to get out of bed, pulling the pillow close to him and hugging it. It was a strange feeling being alone with his thoughts after so much time filling his head with Jerome’s. He focused on that instead of his empty stomach.

It took him a moment to be able to even find himself, his own thoughts, and it was almost enough to make him want to hide. He tried to think about it like it was happening to someone else, the things that Jerome had done to him, had him do, and shame made his stomach twist. No one that had treated him like that, no one that had treated him _half_ as bad at that, had gotten away unscathed. Even now though, he knew that if Jerome would just take him back he’d be more than willing, would beg for it, and he didn’t understand _why_.

Or maybe he did, it just tore him apart to think of his weakness. Those that had hurt him before, they had never wanted him. His mind hesitated for a moment, thinking of the look on Ed’s face, but that was probably just another trick too. He hadn’t meant anything to anyone before, not really, but Jerome… Jerome cared about him. That was what made it worth it. Right? He could take some things he didn’t like if they made Jerome happy, because the man being pleased would make him happy. So everyone wins. 

Except. It sure felt nothing like winning.

He covered his ears so he didn’t have to hear anyone go to lunch.

Oswald felt like he was close to realizing something, remembering something of who he was, desperation forcing him to face things he’d been choosing to hide from.

Almost like the man had a sixth sense for him it was shortly after that thought, though it was hard to keep track of time, when he heard Jerome’s voice come through the grate. 

“Pet.”

Part of him thought he might be imagining it but he scrambled out of his bed, flat on his stomach so he could look into the other cell, “Jerome?” He could just make out the man’s feet and then he was crouching down and his heart hammered. “Jerome, Please. I’m sorry. Please.”

There was a soft chuckle from the other side as the man sat on the ground. “Have you had time to think about what you did, Ozzy?”

He choked on a sob, stomach twisting painfully, “I’m yours, you’re the one that cares about me. I shouldn’t have… I should always be with you.”

Jerome made a fond sound and his fingers came down to press between the bars and Oswald shoved his fingers under them, letting out a sigh. Whatever revelation he had almost come to slipping away under the relief of Jerome talking to him. 

“I’m going to have them let you out for dinner, Ozzy.” His empty stomach clenched at the thought, mouth watering, but he was still talking. “You can either sit with me Ozzy, and not eat, or sit on your own and have your dinner. You decide.”

“What?” It wasn’t that he didn’t understand, it wasn’t that he was even surprised, he just needed the man to say that he was making it a game. That he was trying to hurt him.

“You heard me.”

“With you.” Like there was going to be any other answer, they both knew it. 

Jerome’s fingers pulled away from the grate as he stood, voice pleased, “That’s my little birdie. See you soon.”

Oswald couldn’t stop the excitement that bubbled up, the relief that he felt at getting to see Jerome. He knew there was probably still a punishment coming, was sure that this still hadn’t been it, but as long as he wasn’t shut away alone he could handle anything.

It was closer than he thought, not that long before he could hear the footsteps of approaching guards, doors opening, and he held his breath worried it might be a trick but when they reached his cell the door opened. 

He stumbled towards it, not hesitating when Jerome came into view, throwing himself at him, wrapping his arms around the man’s waist, pressing his face against his chest. Not aware that he was sobbing until Jerome shushed him. The man tried to push him back, to get him to move, but he didn’t seem to be able to. He could only cling to Jerome, rubbing his face against his neck, fingers twisting so hard in his shirt they were starting to hurt.

“Ozzy, it’s okay. Hey. Calm down.”

“Please don’t leave me alone.”

Jerome held him close, leaning down to press against his neck, voice barely a murmur, “My needy little bird, I’d never leave you alone.”

But he _had_ . Oswald choked on another sob with the effort it took not to say it. With a certainty that felt like acid in his stomach knew the words meant nothing the same way he knew they meant nothing when Jerome said he _cared,_ when he said he _wouldn't hurt him_ , when he told him he only wanted _him_. When he said all those things and then did whatever he wanted anyways.

Knew in the way that he had known from the first time he heard them and he shoved the knowledge away just like he had all the previous times. Lost himself in the arms holding him. Did the only thing he could in response to the words, mumbled a thank you and pressed his lips to the other man’s, opening his mouth with a moan when he was immediately kissed back. 

Jerome pulled away with a grin on his face, shoving Oswald away enough that he could wrap an arm around his shoulders to get them moving towards the cafeteria, keeping him pulled close. Once they were in the cafeteria the smell of food, even the crappy food they had in Arkham, made his mouth watered and he had to forcibly remind himself he wasn’t going to get to eat. 

A tray was still forced into his hands by Jerome and he dutifully let them fill it, though it seemed unduly cruel to have to sit with the food sitting on the table in front of him like that. As soon as he could Jerome’s arm was back around his shoulders, and he pressed into his side. 

It felt familiar sliding into his spot at the table, Jerome’s leg pressed against his own, a hand dropping down to his thigh after he set his tray on the table. Jerome dug into his food and Oswald dropped his hands to his lap, hoping the other man didn’t hear it when his stomach growled. 

He tried to remind himself it had only been 2 or 3 days since he had eaten, it wasn’t that bad, it wasn’t like he was going to _die,_ but he couldn’t stop his eyes from darting down at the tray and then back down to his lap. His fingers curled into his own pant legs to keep them down.

Every few moments he could feel Jerome looking at him, assessing him, maybe trying to guess if Oswald was going to try to sneak food. Try to eat anyway. He clenched his jaw, sure that if he just maintained tonight he’d be able to eat breakfast the next morning. 

“Everything okay Ozzy?”

“Yes.” He couldn’t help it as the word was hissed between clenched teeth.

Jerome hummed at that, pushing the tray a little closer to him and then looking back up at his face, “You’re hungry and food is right there. You’re so broken that you won’t eat even though you’re starving? Just because I said so?” There was laughter around them.

He tilted his head, not sure how to answer that. Despite everything he bristled at the thought of saying he was broken. He was quiet for a few moments and finally spoke, voice low, “I want to do what makes you happy.”

“And you would do anything to make me happy, yes Ozzy?” A tear slid down his cheek but he nodded. Jerome tapped the tray, “Go ahead and eat.”

He grabbed his fork, but hesitated, watching Jerome’s body language. He hadn’t forgotten everything he knew, and he had always been good at knowing how to stay on the good side of whoever was in charge. There was a tension in Jerome’s body as he casually looked away and Oswald slowly set down his fork and nudged the tray away from him. It felt like a trap.

“Not hungry, Ozzy?”

“You said be with you, or eat. I chose you.” 

Jerome pushed the tray away from him, letting another inmate take it and grabbed his jaw to turn his face towards him. Jerome looked delighted, pleased, and Oswald knew that he had done good. Jerome murmured, “That’s my good boy, Ozzy. I knew you’d get it. Just wait a bit longer, Love.” A kiss was pressed against his lips, soft and gentle and he didn’t care anymore how pathetic he looked. 

When Jerome pulled away from him, he stroked his cheek for a moment before dropping his hand and turned back to his tray. It took Oswald a moment to settle, and he turned to stare at the empty spot in front of him. Jerome’s hand fell to his thigh again, a comforting squeeze, and he closed his eyes, trying to relax. This was what he had wanted after all.

As they headed back to their cells from dinner Oswald couldn’t help it as dread slid up his spine, terrified he would be locked away again. Afraid if he went back into his cell that maybe this time he wouldn’t ever be let out. He found himself scrambling to grab Jerome’s hand, squeezing it tight, not trying to hide his panic. 

It was unnecessary though, as they were corralled into their cells for the night with just a slight nod at a guard, Jerome kept a hold of his hand and followed him into his cell. A small part of him was disappointed, he had hoped dinner would be a test and Jerome would have food for him afterwards, but there didn’t appear to be any food in the cell. 

“Don’t sulk, Oswald. You can have breakfast in the morning. Come here.” Jerome had dropped down onto his bed and he obediently curled up next to him, leaning into his warmth, flushing as his stomach growled again.

Jerome’s arm curled around his shoulders, touching him gently in contrast to the harsh bite of his words. “I wondered how best to punish you, my little bird.” He couldn’t help it as he tensed but he didn’t pull away and Jerome waited for a moment before he made a pleased sound and continued talking. “At first I thought I should do something really terrible so you’d learn. You couldn’t talk to anyone else without a tongue, you couldn’t write any letters without fingers.” His other hand came up to rest against Oswald’s chest, feeling his heart race. “I was hurt Ozzy, by what you did. And that makes me lash out.”

Without meaning to, he curled his fingers into his hand, tried to make himself as small as possible. He didn’t think Jerome would seriously hurt him, all his instincts had said the man would do something but nothing like that, and this was going to be a really unfortunate time to be wrong. He thought about begging, about crying, but steeled himself against what the man was going to say, “What did you decide?”

“Brave little bird.” The praise practically dripped from the words as the hand on his chest dropped away and Jerome’s body relaxed against his. “Look how far you’ve come. I decided that if you ate dinner tonight I’d kill you, and if you didn’t I’d forgive you. Easy enough.”

His breath caught in his throat. He had thought it was a trap but he thought it would end in a beating, not in his death and he couldn’t control his mouth, “You’d kill me?”

Jerome was watching him and finally shrugged, “Well, no, that may have been a little dramatic. I just would have made you hurt I suppose. I am so very fond of you. Also,” he nudged Oswald so he slid off the bed, sitting up himself with a leg on either side of the man, settling him between them. “I did hope to get some help from someone on the outside, and you handed me the perfect situation. Help from someone that desperately wants something that I have. It made me more lenient.”

Jerome was tugging him forward so he was close, reaching for his pants, but Oswald was still on the words. “What?”

“The Riddler.” How unimpressed Jerome was by the man was clear in his voice. “I don’t think he liked our little movie very much. Holding you over his head has turned out to be a more valuable asset than I thought it would be. And I have you to thank for that.”

Oswald finally got it and his voice was small, “Are you not hurting me because you need me to control him?”

“You talk too much Ozzy. Let’s find a better use for that mouth.” His cock was out and he wrapped a hand in Oswald’s hair as he pulled him closer. He opened his mouth without being told, without being asked, like the conditioned response it had become. Jerome grinned down at him as he slid in his mouth, stroking across his tongue. “That’s a good boy.” His voice was mocking, “Do a good job and at least you’ll get something in your stomach tonight.”

The grip on him was tight, holding him still as Jerome thrust into his mouth, down his throat, making him gag all while he purred out soft praise that made him try harder, take more. It was a simple game to understand, even when he was losing and Oswald tried to let himself just sink away into it. Easier that way. 

There was a small hitch though, a voice in his head telling him that this wasn’t right, and that voice sounded a whole lot like Ed.


	17. Chapter 17

Oswald woke up curled around Jerome, face tucked against his neck, an arm around his waist holding him tight. It was nice. He tried not to move, afraid if he roused the other man the perfect picture of being held would be ruined. 

“Morning Ozzy.” The arm around him shifted, but only to pull him closer, tuck him in tighter as Jerome pressed his face against Oswald’s throat, nuzzling him, mouth at the skin there until there would be a bruise. 

“Morning.” He couldn’t help the whimper in his words, still not sure of where he stood. Jerome had seemed happy the night before. He had cum down Oswald’s throat and then pulled him close and jerked him off with slow easy strokes that had made him writhe and pant and beg.

A hand was slipping down his pants now and Oswald shifted to make it easier for Jerome, even though he had no interest in it. He was  _ hungry _ , and the sharp pain in his stomach was too much to pay attention to the hand on him. The touch was casual though, palming him with a soft hum, and when his stomach growled Jerome chuckled and pulled his hand out of his pants, patting his stomach. 

Jerome pushed him to his back and crossed his arms on top of Oswald’s chest, resting his head on them so he could meet his eyes. “How long would you go without eating just because I said so, Ozzy?” Jerome pulled one of his arms down to trace over his stomach, “Hmm?”

His stomach rumbled again, making him wince, and he didn’t know how to answer. He chewed his lip, “I don’t know.”

Jerome made a fond sound, pushing up so he could press a kiss to Oswald’s lips, “Such an honest answer my little bird.” There were footsteps of guards in the distance and he looked up at the door before he looked back to Oswald and caught the flash of worry, “Don’t worry, I don’t plan on testing it. You can eat, okay?” He nodded, eyes still scanning his face, trying to figure out if there was a catch he had missed.

There was a pat to his cheek, just hard enough to leave a red mark before Jerome pushed to his feet, putting out his hand to help Oswald up. “Don’t worry, you’re already too skinny. I’m not going to make it worse.”

His eyes dropped to look at himself, though it was hard to see anything in the oversized uniform. He looked back up at Jerome and swallowed hard, and muttered, “I’m sorry.” He wasn’t entirely sure what he was apologizing for, maybe for how he looked. 

“Gees, I fucked you up good with that last round, huh?” He grabbed Oswald and pulled him close, wrapping arms around his waist. “You are my favorite, Oswald. I am very fond of you. You proved to me what a good boy you are Ozzy, you don’t have to be scared.”

Before he could think to answer, not that he had anything to say, the door opened and a guard was frowning at them. Jerome frowned right back and Oswald realized it was one of the few guards that wasn’t under his thumb. Not that he did anything to stop him, but he didn’t help at all. “Why are you both in here?”

Jerome let go of Oswald to turn towards the guard and shrugged, “I don’t know. I didn’t argue with the guards when they put me here.”

There was a mild standoff before Jerome grinned, violence dripping from it, “Is it time for breakfast or not? My friend is very hungry.”

The guard gave ground, he wasn’t stupid, and Jerome’s smile widened as he grabbed Oswald’s hand and pulled him out into the hallway where the other inmates were already waiting to go to breakfast.

Oswald focused on Jerome’s hand, curling his fingers into the grip, holding tighter, some anxiety in his chest easing when the pressure was returned.

They arrived in the cafeteria and he got a tray, hands shaking as he tried to hold it. Jerome took it from him carefully, murmuring that he wasn’t going to take it away, just was going to carry it for him and they headed towards the table. 

After they sat down Jerome kept his eyes on Oswald, watching as he squirmed and whimpered but didn’t pick up his fork. Finally he reached out to pick it up, forcing Oswald’s hand around it. “Eat slow, don’t make yourself sick.” His face was softer than Oswald could remember ever seeing it. 

He was so hungry looking at the food made him feel sick but he did as he was told, and as soon as the first forkful was in his mouth he was ravenous. He tried to eat it quickly, desperately trying to ease the ache in his stomach and whined when Jerome grabbed his hand to stop him after only a half dozen mouthfuls.

“You’re going to make yourself sick.” He looked up to Jerome and expected to see mocking or glee on his face but it was calm. Gentle. “Slow down.”

With a nod he went back to eating, making sure that he went slowly, and the other man was right. He’d only eaten a third of the food when his stomach protested, too much all at once and he dropped his fork, clenching his jaw so he wouldn’t be sick. 

A hand rubbed his back, soothing circles, and he pressed into it. Jerome was eating his own food, not looking at him, and Oswald didn’t know what to make of his actions. Once he was sure his stomach was settled he turned slightly towards him, keeping his voice low, “Did I do something wrong?”

There was a huff of laughter from Jerome, and the man shook his head. “No Oswald, you are perfect. I just want to take care of you.”

He didn’t want to keep pushing at it, but Jerome was being too nice and it set him on edge. He slid closer, rubbing against the man’s side, nudging at him until Jerome dropped a hand to his thigh. It pulled the man away from his food, turning to Oswald, and he preened under the attention. 

Jerome grabbed his jaw, tilting his head towards him, “Saw how bad it could be and you appreciate me now, don’t you?” A thumb swiped across his bottom lip, “I missed you the last few days Ozzy, try to eat a little more.”

His stomach twisted at the thought but he forced himself to eat a little more, eyes on Jerome, finally letting himself relax. An arm slipped around his shoulders and he took the offered comfort, curling in against Jerome, vaguely aware of the man talking to his men. Little parts of the plan, nothing that important, but something and Oswald realized for the first time he hadn’t been sent away. He waited for the man to go quiet and mumbled against the side of his neck, “You trust me?”

“You’ve proven you’re loyal to me Ozzy, my perfect little pet. I trust you.”

He was sure that should comfort him, make him happy, but it just made the little voice in his head louder. He wasn’t a  _ pet _ . He was more than that. 

Just thinking something that he knew would upset Jerome made him flinch, curling up tighter, and he told the voice to just  _ shut up _ , struck by the sudden urge to laugh because he may have been sane when he came into Arkham, but he wasn’t so sure that applied anymore. It took being committed to make him crazy. He wasn't able to stop the laughter, a few high pitched sounds making it out, desperate and fragile sounding.

At the sound Jerome abandoned eating and pulled him into his lap, and buried his mouth against Oswald’s throat, lips pressed over his pulse. He didn’t do anything else and Oswald realized he was just feeling the vibration from the laughter, and when Oswald finally calmed down, settled and stopped making the sound there was an answering dark chuckle against his throat. “Absolutely perfect.” Teeth bit down hard enough to bleed but Oswald only dropped his head back to give him better access and closed his eyes.

Quickly Oswald realized he couldn’t stand the thought of being alone in his cell. After they headed back from breakfast Jerome hadn’t followed him in and as soon as he was alone with the door shut he’d been unable to stop the crying, the desperate begging for Jerome, frantic until the man had appeared in his doorway, pulling him to the cot. He had held him and shushed him until he cried himself out, clinging to Jerome’s shirt.

He just didn’t want to be left alone again. Terrified no one would ever come for him.

So for the last 3 days since Jerome had let him out he hadn’t left his side, clutching at his hand, huddling in his lap whenever he could. Jerome loved it, he could feel the glee in the way the man touched him, in the way he showed off how devoted Oswald was. 

They had just settled onto a bench for lunch, Oswald pressing his leg against Jerome, leaning into him even as he ate. His appetite was better, at the back of his mind never sure if he would be denied food again and unwilling to miss any meals because of it.

“Cobblepot.”

He startled at the sound of his name, looking behind him at the guard standing there before he looked to Jerome, waiting. He didn’t react so he let his eyes go back to the guard. “Yes?” He hadn’t realized how used he had gotten to only Jerome talking to him. The guards never did nor the other inmates, no, his entire existence was just Jerome.

“You have a visitor, let’s go.”

“Oh.” He looked back at Jerome, aware that he was half watching and curled his shoulders in protectively, trying to remind himself that it wasn’t his fault someone came for a visit. He couldn’t control that. “No thank you.”

Jerome had already grabbed his arm though and was pushing him to his feet, “Go on. It’s your  _ Ed _ .”

Fear flooded him so quickly his knees buckled, the bench too far away, so he found himself abruptly dropping to sit on the floor. He crawled the bit forward until he was touching Jerome, whimper caught in his throat. It didn’t matter than he hadn’t done anything, his heart was racing and he could barely hear the laughter around them over the blood rushing in his ears. 

He forced his eyes up to Jerome, and was met with a mellow fond look. “Not happy to see your friend?”

“Please.”

He chuckled, shaking his head, “What are you even begging for?” He had no answer and Jerome tilted his head at the guard and that was all it took for the man to step forward and grab Oswald to pull him to his feet. “It’s okay. He has information for you, I told him he could come and see you. I think he’s learned his place and I know you have. Go get your info, and I will see you after.” Jerome caught his eyes, “Be good, Ozzy.” The threat filled the words and made Oswald struggle against the guard, trying to get back to Jerome.

He couldn’t control what Ed did. He couldn’t control what anyone did. “Please don’t make me go.”

Jerome looked so pleased it nearly made the voice in Oswald’s head wake up but he pushed it down. Now wasn’t the time. “You are so very mine, aren’t you Ozzy. Don’t fret so, I won’t leave you alone again. Now go.”

There was no arguing with that tone and Oswald finally nodded, biting down on his cheek to try to get himself under control so he wasn’t crying. They left the cafeteria, heading down the hallway, and it was only then that his thoughts turned away from the possibility of upsetting Jerome to facing Ed. His face heated, and he had previously been able to push away the thought of Ed watching the video, but he couldn’t now. Not when he was about to see him. Why was the man even here? 

They reached a room and the door was opened, Oswald nearly shoved inside. Ed sat at the table, looking a little more frazzled than the Riddler usually was, a scowl on his face. He tried to stay on the far side of the room but the guard grabbed his arm hard enough to bruise and dragged him towards the table to push him into a chair. 

And without thinking about it he snarled at the guard, “He’s not going to like it if you mark me.” With a frightening clarity he realized it was true, too. The guard would pay if he marked him up without permission.

The guard’s hand jerked away like he had been burned, fear flashing on his face before he forced it flat and turned on his heel, stalking towards the open door and slamming it shut behind him. Oswald wanted to keep looking that way forever but eventually the silence dragged and he shifted in his seat so he was facing Ed, though he kept his eyes on the table. 

“Oswald.” There was so much in just the one word and he couldn’t help it as he slouched in the seat, crossing his arms over his stomach, tucking his chin to his chest. 

“Jerome said you had information.”

“Martin is safe.” Ed said it like he was distracted but it was enough to make Oswald’s eyes come up, to meet his to see if he was telling the truth and as soon as they made eye contact a whine filled his throat, unable to look away.

The scowl had softened to something else, just as unhappy but worried instead of angry. “I was going to tell you I made sure the cameras weren’t on, that there weren’t any listening devices in here so you could drop the act, but…” For a moment it looked like The Riddler was unsure as he took a few seconds to pick his words. “But it isn’t an act, is it Oswald?”

Ed reached out one hand like he was going to touch him and Oswald shoved back away from the table just enough to stay out of reach. “Please don’t touch me, he won’t like it.”

“I don’t care what he likes, Oswald. Look at yourself. What did he do to you?” A flush worked it’s way up Ed’s face and perhaps he was thinking about the video, about what he had seen Jerome do to him, even though they both knew that wasn’t what he meant. At any other time Oswald would be smug that he’d managed to get such a reaction from the usually stoic man. 

“He cares about me.” The words wobbled and Oswald tried to force them to sound more confident.

“It looked like it.” Ed suddenly tugged at his own hair, his face twisting with conflict, and his words sounded more like Ed. “The way he touched you, Oswald. The way he…” With visible effort Ed calmed himself, settling back into the seat with a deep breath. “He doesn’t own you Oswald. I know you.  _ This _ is not you.”

“I love him.”

Ed was out of his seat and around the table before Oswald could react. He was dragged to his feet and pressed against the wall. Hands on his face tilted his head up until he met Ed’s eyes, and he didn’t know which one he was looking at, could see the storm in the man’s eyes, and he thought he might be looking at both. He expected him to kiss him, more force, but the man’s voice was soft when he finally spoke. “You love _ me _ .”

Oswald could feel the tears spilling down his cheeks, but he didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know how to react to the voice in his head screaming in sync with Ed in front of him and finally shook his head. It didn’t matter though, they both knew the truth. 

Ed’s hands clenched for a moment before he eased back, Oswald letting a sigh of relief when the man didn’t kiss him. He wouldn’t be able to resist and Jerome would know, and the punishment would be devastating. There was a deep sigh from the man as one thumb stroked Oswald’s cheek, and there was a promise on his face, in his eyes, but out loud he said nothing. Just dropped his hands and took several steps back. 

Into the silence Oswald finally muttered, “Thank you. For saving Martin.”

And like he couldn’t help himself Ed’s voice drifted across the room, barely more than a whisper, “I’ll save you too, Oz.”

Ed pulled the origami penguin out of his pocket, holding it up to Oswald, before he set it on the table and headed to the other side of the room to wait to be let out. 

Oswald looked at, stepping close enough to the table to rub his fingers over it, but backed up without picking it up. He wasn’t stupid enough to try to bring it back with him. He raised his eyes to Ed’s back, “Be careful, Ed.” He supposed it sounded like a threat, but Ed knew him well enough to read into it. If he was going to go against Jerome he was going to have to be more than careful, he had no idea how dangerous the man was.

Ed’s shoulders tensed, but he didn’t turn back to face him and Oswald watched him all the way until he disappeared through the gate before he turned back to door, waiting for the guard to bring him back to Jerome. Like a good pet.


	18. Chapter 18

Oswald couldn’t help tensing as he was brought back to his cell. He knew he hadn’t done anything wrong, more than that he had resisted ( _ mostly _ ) Ed doing anything wrong and he was sure that Jerome was somehow watching them no matter what Ed had said.

But he was still afraid. 

The door to his cell opened and in equal parts he hoped Jerome would be there and hoped the man wouldn’t, his heart doing a strange little stutter thump when Jerome was stretched out on his cot, one hand over his eyes like he was sleeping. 

Until there was a nudge to his back he hadn’t realized he had stopped and he moved into his cell, jumping when the door swung shut behind him. Jerome didn’t move, barely acknowledged him and he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do. He glanced at the book on the table, if this had been a normal day he would pick it up and settle on the floor next to Jerome or curled up against him, but he wasn’t sure if today was a normal day. 

His instincts told him it wasn’t. 

Still he swallowed down the lump in his throat and moved forward, his fingers skimming along the book before he turned and instead simply sat down next to the cot, waiting to see what Jerome would do. 

How long he sat there he wasn’t sure, but it couldn’t have been too long, before Jerome’s arm moved enough that he could open one eye and look at him. He scanned Oswald up and down, lingering at his neck and mouth, looking for some sign that his pet had misbehaved. Oswald held his breath, part of him knew that he was making himself look guilty by staying so tense, but he couldn’t convince himself to relax. Not when he knew what could happen if Jerome decided it, whether or not he had misbehaved.

“You look like a very frightened little bird. What reason would a good pet have to be so frightened?”

He shook his head, trying to shake the feeling that felt like Jerome was in his head, like he wasn’t even sure if his thoughts were his own anymore. Not when as soon as he thought them they came from Jerome. “He said Martin is safe. I didn’t do anything wrong, I didn’t let him touch me.” It flashed in his mind of him against the wall, Ed’s hands on his face, and tears welled up in his eyes. “I tried not to let him.”

Jerome watched him with an eyebrow raised, pushing up to his elbows and with the blood rushing in Oswald’s ears, his heart racing and tears blurring his vision he couldn’t see the amusement on the man’s face. “You let him touch you, then.”

“I’m s-sorry.” The words were barely a whimper and he tried to explain, “I pulled away the first time he moved but then he was too fast. He just touched my face, that’s all. I swear and I told him you wouldn’t like it.”

“Hmm.” Jerome’s grin had tilted up, watching Oswald work himself up, as he pretended to be angry. “I think I told you not to touch him.”

“I didn’t touch him-”

“But did you behave Ozzy? He knew not to touch you, knew what could happen, what would push him to act so brash?” Mostly he was just messing with Oswald, killing time, sure that his pet had learned his place and learned it well. Besides, he hadn’t expected the Riddler to completely behave, not when he knew how badly he wanted Oswald. If the man didn’t care, if the man could control himself, Ozzy wouldn’t be nearly as big of a bargaining chip.

“I told him I love you.”

That did get all his attention as he sat fully up, reaching out to cup Oswald’s jaw, stroking his thumb gently at the tears falling down his face. Oswald looked so earnest, so eager to please, it was impossible to resist. 

Oswald was dragged up onto the cot so he was lying curled up with Jerome, chest to chest and the man was still smiling but it had softened. “He didn’t like that huh? Your Ed was upset that your heart belongs to someone else?”

“I’m yours.”  
“Yes, you are.” He leaned forward to press their lips together and Oswald moaned, desperate for the reassurance after being so afraid. He curled in closer, grabbing on to Jerome’s shirt, opening his mouth and letting the man’s tongue explore it as he wished. Hesitantly he reciprocated, lapping at him shyly, and he felt silly that he had been so worried. Jerome loved him, took care of him, and he had obeyed. Jerome made an encouraging sound when he licked at Jerome’s lips, and biting down gently on one dropped the sound to a growl and Oswald was rolled to his back with Jerome over him. 

Jerome’s mouth found his neck, sucking over marks that were already there, teeth pressing painfully into bruises but Oswald only tilted his head to give him more access. The more Jerome could physically mark him like this, the less he felt the need to show everyone who Oswald belonged to. 

A hand slid down his stomach to cup him over his pants, settling there for a moment before Jerome stopped, leaning back to look at him. “You aren’t hard.”  
Oswald’s attention had been drifting, zoning out as Jerome touched him but it snapped back as he looked at the man and then down at himself before he looked back up at him. Usually he was hard as soon as Jerome started to touch him, no matter how he touched him, but he was distracted by the visit with Ed. By his own fear. He opened his mouth to give some kind of answer, but had no idea what to say. 

“You don’t like me touching you anymore, Ozzy?”

The look on his face made another jolt of fear move up his spine and he focused on that, licking his lips before he whimpered out, “I was just scared. Having to see him.” He could see the confusion on Jerome’s face as he tried to figure out how to react to that. It wasn’t like he could be angry with Oswald for the thought of Ed  _ not _ making him hard. He realized if he had been hard Jerome probably would have punished him for it, saying he was for Ed. There was no way to win, not really.

It seemed to be the best result though as Jerome’s face softened, moving his hands to stroke up Oswald’s sides before coming back to settle on his hips. “It’s okay love, you’re safe here with me. I’ll take care of you.”

The words were barely out of his mouth before he was nudged until he rolled onto his stomach and his clothes were tugged off until he was naked under him. He got his arms under him and pushed up to his knees like he knew he was supposed to, holding his breath until he felt Jerome’s hand over his ass, squeezing. “For such a bony guy, Ozzy, you have a nice ass.”

He could feel the intent of the man shift behind him and he closed his eyes, not sure what way it was going to go. Jerome tapped his fingers against Oswald’s ass and made a considering sound before he was pulling Oswald to his feet. “I think you need to be punished for letting Ed touch you. Don’t you think so Oswald?”

A sob slipped between his lips but he tried to contain it and dropped his eyes to the floor, trying to get his thoughts together. It was true, he had let Ed touch him, and maybe he could have done more to stop him. Maybe he hadn’t wanted to do more to stop him. Softly he spoke up, “I tried not to let him.”

“I believe you Ozzy, I will take that into consideration.” HIs tone was still light, playful, and Oswald couldn’t pick up any of the coldness that usually came before something really bad happening. Jerome sat on the cot and patted his leg, “Come on, over my lap.”

He wasn’t sure what Jerome wanted, and he moved closer, he had been on the man’s lap plenty of times but had never been asked to bend over it. He tilted his head as he looked at him and with a clench of his stomach he realized what Jerome intended. And after everything Jerome had done to him, it made no sense that this made him want to put up a fight, but he found himself reluctant to move forward.

“Come on Ozzy, you’ve been a naughty boy. Come take your punishment.” Jerome’s voice lilted in the way that Oswald knew meant sex and not anger, and his shoulders eased. He took a step forward and Jerome didn’t wait any longer as he grabbed him and yanked him forward, settling him over his knees. He shifted until he was comfortable - or as comfortable as he could be, one knee under his chest, the other under his lower stomach. One of Jerome’s arms held around his middle, pinning him there.

“Were you ever spanked as a child Ozzy?” He didn’t wait for him to answer. “I’m sure you weren’t, if you had you probably wouldn’t be so spoiled. You might enjoy this,” He leaned close to press a kiss to Oswald’s cheek, his voice a leer. “I know I always did.”

The first strike surprised him, he supposed he thought it would be gentler, playful but it had  _ hurt _ . He flinched hard, nearly toppling himself off of Jerome’s lap before he settled, grabbing onto his leg to keep his balance. As soon as he stopped wiggling Jerome hit him again, the smacking sound loud in the room, surely bouncing off the walls down the hallway. 

At first the strikes were predictable, one side and then the other, moving down to his thighs and then back up but then they were more sporadic, leaving Oswald unable to predict what the next strike would be. Again he was caught off guard, he had expected the man to lose interest in it quickly and move on, but it was a thorough spanking like he was really being punished. He didn’t like it but it helped ease the guilt that he’d had at the words, at the thought that maybe he hadn’t worked that hard to resist Ed and had disappointed Jerome.

He was crying though he didn’t remember starting, a plaintive whine slipping from his throat when Jerome stroked his hand over the heated flesh. “You should see what you look like Ozzy.” There was a sigh of regret, “I should have done this in the cafeteria, where I could show off how well your skin marks.” He traced his fingers over the red skin, landing a few more strikes before he stopped to pet him again.

“Pl-please.”

“Please what?” 

Oswald wiggled at that, on the tip of his tongue to beg the man to stop, when Jerome’s hand slid between his legs and until that moment he hadn’t realized he was hard. The building burn, the close contact with Jerome, and now that he paid attention his cock ached. Jerome shifted him so his cock was pressed up against Jerome’s leg, teasing him with the pressure. “Oh Ozzy, my predictable little masochist. This is supposed to be a punishment, love.” 

He shook his head, not sure if he was trying to deny the words or not, and let out an embarrassed moan when Jerome started up the hits again and he couldn’t help tilting slightly into them. Not sure if he truly enjoyed it, or if he wanted to please Jerome by liking it. It hurt, the sting getting sharper and he buried his face against his shoulder to try to muffle his tears.

Jerome kept it up until the red gave way to darker bruises, until he was sure that Oswald would feel it for days when he sat and the man was a crying mess. It took long moments of Jerome gentle stroking a hand over the skin and making shushing noises for Oswald to realize he had stopped. He gasped out of a breath, hips rocking down against Jerome’s knees as he tried to escape even the soft touch. 

He wasn’t prepared when fingers slid down between his cheeks and slick fingers circled his hole before pressing in, caught in Jerome’s grip unable to press into it or pull away. This he was used to and he tried to relax into it as a second finger slid in, but then Jerome’s other hand grabbed his ass and squeezed the heated skin and he whined, his body clenching hard around the fingers in him as he tensed. It made the stroke of the fingers hurt and he forced himself to relax only to have Jerome grab him again and start the whole thing over. It was exhausting and painful, and he tried not to think about that his own cock was still hard. He had softened when the spanking had moved to truly painful, but Jerome’s fingers in him and his attention on him and he had hardened again. 

Normally Jerome would only prepare him a little before he slid his cock inside, but he seemed to be taking his time, the fingers in him sliding in and out, twisting to stretch him, and rubbing purposely over his prostate until his hips bucked on their own account, pressing back into the fingers and rutting against Jerome’s thigh. He tried to still, remembered that it was supposed to be a punishment and whined instead. 

“It pleases me that you are so well trained, pet, it really does. I am going to miss you once you’re gone.” 

The words should have triggered some sort of red flag but Oswald was distracted as he was pushed to his feet, wincing and stumbling, as Jerome stopped touching him long enough to get his own pants off. He pulled out his cock, already hard and dripping himself. 

Oswald was tugged down and he went to his knees easily, leaning forward to lap at him, but before he could properly suck him he was being pulled up more until he was straddling Jerome’s lap. “Come on pet, there you go.”

He was manipulated until he was over Jerome’s cock, wincing as he was pressed down faster than he would have liked, not long enough to adjust, choking down the cries at the painful burn. Jerome rolled his eyes at the sound, muttering against his neck, “I prepared you  _ forever _ , stop whining.”

Almost fully seated he was yanked down the last inch harshly by the grip on his hips, breath catching at the burn only to cry out when his bruised ass came into rough contact with Jerome’s thighs, rocking back up instinctually before Jerome’s grip tightened and pulled him back down fully seated.

It was too many different sensations and he panted, dropping his head to fall against Jerome’s shoulder, clinging to him. “Please…”

“Shh, I got you.” He could feel the burn of Oswald’s skin against his thighs and nudged him to move, directing him with hands on his hips.

They lasted that way for a few moments before Oswald turned his head to press his mouth against Jerome’s neck and muttered, “Please, it hurts.” Sometimes it made a difference.

There was no verbal response from Jerome and he wasn’t sure if the man even heard him but the next second he toppled over onto the bed, scrambling up it on his back as Jerome moved between his legs, bending out his knees and wasting no time pressing back in. His legs were pushed up and back until Jerome was pressed completely over him, and he shied away from meeting his eyes. 

“Tell me you’re mine.” Jerome’s voice was breathy, the exertion of rocking his hips deep into Oswald making itself known. 

“I’m yours.” He closed his eyes when Jerome wrapped a hand around him, stroking him too fast and hard but he’d been aroused for so long he was already on the edge. He held closer and said the words again, “I’m yours.”

Jerome sucked on his neck but pulled away enough to growl, “I should slit Ed’s throat for even thinking otherwise.”

Oswald didn’t expect that, and his body tensed at the threat of violence towards Ed. He hoped that Jerome wouldn’t notice, but of course he did, he couldn’t hide anything from him. His fist tightened around Oswald, pulling him closer to orgasm as he muttered against his throat. “Would you like that Oswald, he did try to kill you once. I could shoot him and leave his body-”

Oswald’s hands came to Jerome’s chest, not trying to push him away, just trying to get some sort of control. The hand on him felt too harsh and grating, his stomach flipping painfully at the thought of what Jerome might do to Ed, and it wasn’t exactly conducive to coming. 

Jerome huffed against his neck and it sounded angry but his voice was mellow, “It’s okay Ozzy, I know how delicate you are. Let me take care of you.”

The strokes were long and slow after that, Jerome angling to hit that place inside, until the tension melted away and he was back to rocking against Jerome. 

“Come for me, Ozzy. That’s my good boy.” He wasn’t sure if he was going to be able to on command, not with how back and forth his emotions had been, but the words from Jerome shivered all the way through him, his body conditioned to respond and he was cumming, gasping and arching his back, vaguely aware of Jerome cumming deep inside him. 

Normally Jerome touched him too long, until he was over sensitive and shaking until even a good touch turned into something painful, but he pulled his hand away to wrap it around Oswald’s waist and roll them so they were almost on their sides, still buried in him. 

He tilted his head up to meet the man’s kiss, a lazy relaxed thing. Eventually Jerome shifted so he slid out of Oswald, and he tried not to make a face at the uncomfortable feel of cum sliding down his thigh. There was no blood so it wasn’t that bad.

Jerome’s hand slid over his hip, grabbing his ass, a small smile when it made Oswald wince. “You took your punishment so well, Ozzy.”

He shouldn’t say anything but he couldn’t keep the words in, “Why did you let him come visit me? I know he wanted to tell me Martin was safe, but couldn’t he have just… called?”

Jerome watched Oswald for long seconds, the corner of his mouth pulled up, face incredulous. “You think he just came here to tell you that?”

There was something that Oswald was missing and he shifted a bit, uncomfortable as he tried to go over what he remembered. “Why else?”

“Oh, Oswald.” Jerome rolled his eyes but pulled Oswald closer, his voice affectionate. “He’s doing me a favor and I’m doing one back. He just wanted to… check out the goods before we made the trade, yeah? Make sure his pay wasn’t damaged before delivery.” Jerome’s face was amused, chuckling to himself, but Oswald didn’t understand why.

He chewed on his bottom lip, trying to think of what to ask to make the pieces come together. “What are you paying him?” He didn’t know when Jerome would have even had a chance to talk to Ed, to discuss whatever he was paying him, and it didn’t help when Jerome laughed harder before pushing a kiss against his neck. 

“You are just too much Oswald.” He let out a long sigh and pressed a kiss to Oswald’s cheek, and shook his head. “How did you even end up in this kind of world.”

“I held an umbrella.” 

Jerome stopped as he was pushing to his feet and gave Oswald a strange look. “Whatever that means. Come on Ozzy, on your feet and get dressed.” The easy humor left his face, replaced by something darker. “I got a little surprise for ya.”


	19. Chapter 19

Oswald tried to clean up before he got dressed but Jerome had no patience for it, and finally he dragged his clothes on, cringing as the inside of his thighs stuck to the pants where cum had trailed down them.

Jerome grabbed him and pulled him back against him, one hand going down to palm Oswald over his pants, cupping him, as he sighed against his neck. “Such a messy pet, aren’t you?” He turned him so they were facing each other and his hands slid down to Oswald’s ass, fingers digging into the bruises there and he couldn’t stop a whimper.

At the sound Jerome hummed, splaying out his hands, chuckling when he could feel the heat of the marks through his pants. “You’ll be feeling that for awhile.”

He flushed, tried not to think about how it hurt, and mumbled, “What is the surprise?”

The chuckle against his throat was not nice and he wanted to pull away, but he knew better. “Right, come on. I’ll show you.”

Jerome knocked his knuckles against the cell door and it opened, and he was tugging Oswald down the hallway. He didn’t fight him, didn’t resist, but he couldn’t help whimpering out, “Am I being punished for something?”

“No, you’ve been a lovely pet.” He gave him a sudden slap on the ass, making him yelp and cringe, “Besides, I think I found my new favorite way to punish you.”

He nodded and licked his lips and tried again, “A show?”

Jerome grumbled and dropped his head back, clearly annoyed, “If I tell you it won’t be a surprise Ozzy, so shut up.” He seemed to think about it, “Honestly the only words I really like to hear out of your mouth are like, please, and yes Jerome, and things like that. Can you try that?”

He glanced down as they walked and muttered, “Yes, Jerome.”

The laughter from Jerome was real and an arm tucked around his shoulders, pulling him close. He wasn’t sure where they were heading, not a part of Arkham he was familiar with and Jerome nodded at a guard. The guard nodded back and they stopped while the man headed through a doorway and Jerome turned him to look at him. 

“You know I’m concerned about your well being, right Ozzy?” He nodded, trying not to glance the way the guard had gone. “I worry if I’m not with you, you’ll forget who you belong to. I worry how I can keep track of you.”

“I’m right here.”

“Now you are Ozzy, but pets can wander off. I need to make sure if that happens it is obvious who you belong to, do you understand?”

The guard was back and they headed into the room and Oswald couldn’t help his reluctance, eyes scanning the room. There was someone he didn’t recognize, not a patient, and his eyes landed on the needle in their hands and his stomach twisted. 

“Jerome.”

“Just a little brand, Ozzy. It should make you feel nice and safe, right? You will know you are protected and where you belong.”

“Jerome-” His voice was tighter, fear threading through it. Nothing the man had done to him was permanent, nothing that would be on him if he ever got out of Arkham,  _ when _ he got out and this was different. Until there was a tug on his wrist he didn’t realize he had started to back pedal out of the room. He met Jerome’s eyes and his voice shook but he didn’t waver on what he was saying, “No.”

“Excuse me?” He was yanked forward, stumbling into Jerome. “No? Tell me you didn’t just tell me  _ no _ .”

“I know who I belong to, I don’t… I don’t need…”

“Let me decide what you need.”

He didn’t let himself be pulled forward when Jerome tugged harder, digging his heels in and leaning all his weight backwards. Jerome tilted his head as his fingers dug in hard enough to his wrist to bruise and with a glance behind him the door to the room shut, locking him in. He let go, the sudden release leaving Oswald to tumble backwards. He hit the floor hard, his head knocking back against the wall hard enough to make him cry out. 

As soon as he got his bearings he pulled his knees up protectively, staring up at Jerome. He couldn’t remember the last time he had told the man no, and his heart thudded against his chest even as tears pressed at his eyes, trailing down his cheeks. He was scared, eyes darting to the other person before they went back to Jerome. “Please.”

“Get up and get over here. Now.”

“I’m not going anywhere,  _ please _ Jerome.”

He stalked forward, grabbing Oswald by his hair to jerk him up onto his knees and tilt his head up, watching his face. “Cute, but now is not the time for a fight.” His hand tightened like he was going to force him to his feet, but behind them the other man spoke up.

“Are we still doing this?”

Jerome turned to look at him and Oswald got a glimpse of the man’s rage, what it looked like aimed at someone that wasn’t him, how very  _ different _ it was and he found himself stumbling to his feet. He never wanted that look aimed at him. “You can do something else. Anything else, Jerome. Please.”

“Anything, huh?” He gave a tug at Oswald’s sleeve, mellowing when he allowed himself to be pulled forward without resisting. “This is the anything I want.”

“I could wear a… a collar. Or… or.. I’m already marked.” He lifted his hand to his throat. There hadn’t been a moment that it wasn’t decorated with bites and bruises, but Jerome was shaking his head.

“I can’t mark you like that if you aren’t with me. And collars come off.”

Finally the words really sunk in and Oswald looked up to meet his eyes, “Why wouldn’t I be with you?”

The amusement on Jerome’s face told him that he had finally caught on to something that he had been missing and it was at his expense. Without answering Jerome coaxed him to sit on the table before letting him go to look him up and down before muttering, “Where do ya think?”

“How visible do you want it?”

Oswald could feel a numb sort of panic and managed to whisper, “What are you putting?”

“On his hip I think.”

The man shrugged, “Not very visible.”

“It is for the right things.”

“Jerome.” His own voice sounded far away and he realized even though Jerome was right there, touching him, he felt like he was far away. Vaguely he registered the man looking at him, the amusement giving way slightly to concern as he snapped fingers in front of Oswald’s face. 

“You with me Ozzy?”

“I don't want a tattoo.”

“Not even for me?” He crowded into his space, cupping his face with both hands so they could make eye contact, “I just want a little something on you to show you’re mine, Ozzy. To keep you safe and protected. A little Jerome brand.” His voice was so clearly amused.

He tried to fall into the safety, to the hazy acceptance but found himself muttering, “Livestock gets branded.”

Jerome rolled his eyes, thumb affectionately dragging across his cheek, “Good thing this is a tattoo then. It will barely even hurt Ozzy, I promise. Less than other things I’ve done, even.”

Hesitantly he reached up to hold on to Jerome’s arms, meeting his eyes, searching his face. There was only reassurance there, gentle encouragement and he dropped his hands with a broken sound. They both knew he would give in, that it would happen whether or not he agreed, it hurt less to pretend like it had been his choice. 

“‘J’.”

“What?”

Jerome leaned forward to press their lips together before he leaned back, “You asked what of, just a ‘J’, that's all.” After a moment he clambered on the table behind him, wrapping arms around his waist as he reached down to shove at his pants.

Oswald flushed, a quick glance at the other man watching, but he was beyond protesting at being bared like this. Once they were pushed down to his thighs Jerome nudged him until he turned, his legs pulled up over one of Jerome’s so he was half on his lap. Jerome dropped a hand to palm over his hip, tapping his fingers there, and he realized he was telling him where to do the tattoo. 

He turned his face against Jerome’s chest, one hand coming up to tangle in his hair and hold his face there. Jerome murmured gentle soothing nonsense, stroking his fingers through his hair as the tattoo started.

Oswald couldn’t help whimpering, clinging to Jerome. It hurt. Not as bad as he thought it was going to, but he still clenched his fingers in his shirt. At least it distracted him from the bruises and still red marks covering his ass and thighs, until he felt like everything hurt. He started to lose focus again, and Jerome made an annoyed sound. 

“Come on Ozzy, stay here with me.” 

He made a small sound at that, startling when Jerome hummed and reached down to palm over his cock, though it was too soon and he was too scared to get hard. It did bring his attention back, made him focus on Jerome.

“He’s gotta hold still.”

“He will.” The arm around his waist tightened to keep him still. His other hand continued to stroke, fingers tugging on him in a way that fell awkwardly between feeling good and not. “You are mine, little bird. Even outside of these walls.” 

He nodded his compliance, trying to hold still, and muttered out, “If I get out it would be with you anyways.” He had been able to gleam that part of the plan anyways, that they would eventually break out, but he hadn't thought about what that would mean. He nuzzled closer, desperate to be comforted, “I love you.”

Jerome hummed, “I know, love.” He gave up trying to get Oswald hard and leaned over to look at the tattoo, a genuine sound of pleasure making it out at the small mark. It didn’t need to be big, it didn’t need to be  _ loud _ , it just had to be there. He was already half hard at the thought of how much it was going to piss off the Riddler. He buried his laugh against Oswald’s hair. 

Oswald lost track of time, shutting out what was going on around him, and by the time Jerome was getting his attention the pain was gone and he had drooled on the man’s uniform. He tried to turn his head to see the tattoo but it was already covered with a bandage and Jerome was pushing him to his feet. He wobbled, light headed, but arms caught around his waist and held him, pulling his pants back up and he leaned back against him.

“See, that wasn’t so bad Ozzy. All that fuss for that.”

“M’sorry.” Jerome pressed a kiss to his cheek, nuzzling against Oswald as a hand reached up to wipe away tears. He didn’t remember crying. 

He was nudged until he was walking, wincing at the pain on his hip, at the feel of his pants touching his sensitive backside, but at least they seemed like they were heading back to their cells. Between seeing Ed, between Jerome and the sex and the fear and pain his adrenaline had spiked and dropped too many times and he was exhausted. 

“Sleep?”

Jerome nodded, hand dropping to the middle of his back, grabbing the material as they reached Oswald’s cell. They both entered it but the door stayed open and that was unusual enough for Oswald to raise his eyes to Jerome. He didn’t say anything, just waited, and after long moments he was directed towards his cot. 

“Lay down, take a little nap Ozzy, I will be back before dinner.”

“Alone?”

“Alone. You’re fine.” Jerome sounded mildly annoyed, maybe even regretful but he huffed out a breath. “It’s fine. I’m going to a show, you take a nap.” He grabbed him to pull against him though, sudden enough to make Oswald gasp, and kissed him. It was frantic, mapping out his mouth, biting at his lip and when Jerome pulled back they were both breathing faster. “Tell me you’re mine.”

“I’m yours.” He tilted his head, “What is going on?”

“Nothing Oswald, take a nap.”

He glanced towards the cot and back at Jerome and lowered his voice, “I will see you later though?” There was a nod and now Jerome’s face showed nothing, just blank disinterest and he took a few steps back towards the bed. “Okay.”

“Be a good boy Ozzy. Remember, you belong to me.”

Jerome was out of the cell and the door was closed before he could answer, but he obediently settled onto the cot. He knew something was wrong, something was going on, but he was so tired he couldn’t keep up his worry and fell into a fitful sleep.

Alarms going off woke Oswald up, bleary and unfocused, looking around his cell. It took a moment to focus on someone crouched down next to him and he expected it to be Jerome but it was Ed, and he had to be dreaming. 

“Ed?”

The man smiled and then a hand slammed down over Oswald’s mouth to keep him quiet and a needle pricked his arm. Immediately he felt warm, sleepy again, even as he tried to ask what was going on. Once his head lulled to the side, unable to hold it up Ed pulled his hand away. 

“I got you, Ozzy.” 

He had the vague idea that he was being lifted and then everything went dark.


	20. Chapter 20

Oswald groaned as he moved, achy. There were a few things that hurt, but it was hard to isolate them when his head was pounding. His mouth was dry, and he’d been drugged enough in his life to recognize the feeling. 

He didn’t know what new game Jerome was playing, and he shifted his weight, relieved when it didn’t seem like he was restrained at all. He still couldn’t manage to open his eyes but murmured, “Jerome?”

Footsteps moved closer to him and he turned his face that direction, immediately regretting it and wincing when it made his head pound more. There were hands on face, his cheeks and he forced his eyes open but it was blurry. 

“Oswald? Are you okay?”

His eyebrows came together because that didn't sound like Jerome. The voice was all wrong, the tone was all wrong. He forced himself to focus and slowly Ed’s face came into focus. Panic jolted through him, pushing away the lingering confusion and he scrambled to sit up, yanking his head out of Ed’s hands. “Where is Jerome?”

Ed moved closer, ignoring Oswald trying to push him away and grabbed his jaw to hold him still and force eye contact. “He’s not here, you’re with me. You’re safe.”

The fear got worse as he struggled to pull away, frantically looking around the room, voice wobbling, “Where is Jerome?”

“He’s not-”

“I want Jerome.” He managed to get out of Ed’s hold and scrambled to his feet and backed himself into the corner. “This is a test. I’m sorry Jerome, I didn’t do anything.”

“Oswald.” Ed looked perplexed, “I already told you he isn’t here.”

“What did you do?” He tensed up when Ed moved closer to him and he put his hands out like it would stop him, “I want Jerome.”

“I’ve got you Ozzy, you’re okay now.” Ed closed the distance between them and tried to grab Oswald again.

He let out a panicked whimper, yanking away and darting towards the other side of the room, looking for an exit. This wasn’t right. Jerome wouldn’t let him be so far away. He had to be close. He just had to get to him. Had to prove that he wasn’t trying to do anything, wasn’t trying to get away. 

A grip on his arm yanked him around to face Ed, pulling his body forward until they were flush, one hand around his waist holding him tight enough that he couldn’t move. “Oswald, calm down. You’re with me.”

“Please.” He sniffled, could feel the tears down his face, “I want Jerome, please.”

Oswald was still fighting him, still trying to get away and Ed let out a long sigh, annoyed and unsure. “Okay, we’ll do this the hard way.” He pinned Ozzy with one arm and reached into his back pocket to pull out a syringe. Oswald’s eyes landed on it and widened, renewing his struggle to get away. 

He was no match for Ed though, and the needle sunk into his neck after a few seconds of a struggle. Ed threw it aside and tightened his hold on Oswald, keeping him upright as the drug took over. He pressed in close, mouth against his throat by his ear, “I know you’re scared but you’re safe now, Ozzy. Just let me take care of you.”

He barely paid attention to what he was saying. He could only think about how angry Jerome was going to be with him for letting Ed touch him and the punishment that would be sure to follow. He tried to keep his eyes open, dropping his hand to press against where the tattoo was, and slipped back into the darkness.

When Oswald came to again he was more prepared and tried to make a plan as soon as he was conscious enough to do it. When he shifted though he realized there was something around an ankle, securing it to the table. That wasn’t good. He clenched his fists and both his wrists were free but with his leg cuffed he wasn’t going anywhere.

“I know you’re awake, Oswald.”

He startled at the voice so close and couldn’t help whipping his head to look at him, giving up any pretense of still being out. “Let me go.”

“I wish I could Oz, but I can’t really trust what you are going to do.”

“I don’t know how you got into Arkham, but when Jerome finds out you took me-”

“Jerome  _ gave _ you to me.” He snarled the words, finding it hard to keep his normal stoicism when faced with Oswald, and regretted the hasty words when Oswald’s face twisted.

“What?”

He tried to calm down, “He needed a favor and traded you for-”

“You’re lying, he didn’t. He  _ loves  _ me.” 

“Oswald.” He hadn’t been prepared for this. He had thought he’d get Oswald out of there, and he would be happy. Would be  _ grateful _ . “I saved you from him.”

“I love him. Let me go back.” The chain of the cuff restraining his ankle rattled when he tried to pull his knees up to his chest, and he huffed. He tried to hide his fear, tried to bury it under haughty command but he didn’t know where Jerome was. Didn’t know what he was supposed to  _ do _ without Jerome to tell him. 

Ed sat back, eyeing him like he was trying to figure out a puzzle. Finally he raised an eyebrow, “You think he loves you?”

“He does.”

“I had to clean you up, do you know the state I found you in Oswald?”

His hackles rose at the tone but he couldn’t help it as he blushed, looking away. It was the first time he realized he was wearing different clothes, wasn’t in an Arkham uniform, and that meant that Ed must have undressed him. He had an idea how Ed had found him. He pressed his lips together, refusing to answer. It reminded him though, brought to life all the bruises, the sharp pain in his ass and thighs. 

“I thought your face was bad when I saw you. But it’s worse than I imagined. You are covered in bruises Ozzy, your entire backside is a bruise. Bite marks everywhere. You have a  _ tattoo  _ on you.” Ed took a deep breath, and his own face flushed, embarrassed but he forced the words out. His voice was quieter, and had lost the accusation. “You were covered in cum Ozzie. You’d never allow that.” He wouldn’t, Oswald was so particular about how he looked, about his image. He didn’t understand what could have happened to him to make it so this was something he accepted.

Ed started to reach out to him, wanting to hold him close, but Oswald jerked away what he could. “Don’t touch me.” He crossed his arms and met Ed’s eyes, “I belong to Jerome.”

“You don’t belong to Jerome.” Inside him the Riddler was  _ raging _ and he couldn’t stop his words, “You belong to  _ me _ . He  _ sold _ you to me.” When he moved closer again Oswald let him and he held his face gently, “I don’t know what he did to you Ozzy, but I’m here now.”

Oswald searched his face and met his eyes, picking his words carefully, “I don’t belong to you, I… I belong to Jerome. I want to go back.”

Ed dropped his hands, not sure what to do. His words came out harsher than he intended, “He gave you to me, there is no back.” He closed his eyes, forced himself to be calm, before he opened them to look at Oswald cowering on the bed. He had been shocked when he undressed Ozzy. He had lost weight, he was clearly being abused, and there were other injuries, intimate ones, that told him Jerome did not handle him very carefully. He just hadn’t expected it to be more than physical, Oswald was always so determined, so  _ stubborn _ .

Though it was taking him time to understand, to catch up, with painful clarity Oswald understood why Jerome had made him get the tattoo. Jerome had literally been telling him what was going to happen but he just hadn’t got it, and he sniffled as he tried not to break down. He gave Ed one more careful look before he turned away and pulled down the edge of his pants, trying to see the tattoo. It was a simple J, like on a deck of cards. All black and flowy where the J curled, only the size of a half dollar and he ran his fingers over it. It didn't hurt when he touched it and he looked up, “How long was I out?”

“A day the first time. A few hours the second time.”

He swallowed hard and nodded, wondered if Jerome really missed him like he said he would. He fixed his clothing and swiped at the tears on his face, “He really did this? He wanted me to go with you?”

“Yes.”

He tugged on his ankle, it made him feel trapped. Vulnerable. Especially without Jerome there to protect him. “If I don’t run will you take this off?”

“Yes.” Oswald waited but Ed didn’t move and he turned his gaze to him. Ed only gave him that empty grin. “If you don’t run. I believe that you will however, so it stays on.”

He wouldn’t though, not if this had really been Jerome’s doing. It must be part of a plan, it could be the only reason he could think of that Jerome would send him here, would separate them. And if that was what Jerome wanted, it wasn’t his place to argue. He tugged at the bottom of his shirt, a soft plaid thing that was big on him. It must be Ed’s. “If Jerome wanted me to be here I won’t run. He wouldn’t like that.”

“Who cares what he likes Oz. He had no hold over you anymore, you can do whatever you want.” He threw his hands in the air. “He doesn’t care  _ where _ you are, he just used you to get what he wanted. I know you are smarter than this Ozzy.”

Oswald knew Ed was getting frustrated, and couldn't stop the fear. He had gotten used to appeasing Jerome, and if he was supposed to be with Ed now, then he should do the same. Ed was angry and that meant he wasn’t safe.

“I’m sorry.” Ed just stared at him so he tilted his chin up, stumbling over his words, “I didn’t mean to upset you, how can I make it up to you?” 

His voice had lowered, more sultry, subconscious tricks he had picked up when dealing with Jerome and it should make Ed smirk, should make him kiss him like he had in the visitation room, but Ed’s face closed off more and he shook his head. “Oh Ozzy.” He reached forward to awkwardly pat his shoulders, wincing when it made Oswald flinch, “It’s okay, I know it's only been a day, you’ve been through a lot. You’ll get over this, you just need time.”

Ed started to head out of the room and Oswald panicked. “No, wait. Please, take off this cuff?” It would be impossible to calm himself when he felt trapped, a whine filling the small space, that more than the words making Ed hesitate. 

“Oswald-”

“Please. If Jerome…” He hesitated over the word, his stomach twisting painfully with what felt like rejection, “gave me to you, I won’t run.” He pushed down the blanket, sitting up, and wished he could go onto his knees, show that he would listen. 

“I came to see you to let you know the plan Ozzy. That asshole told me that you wouldn’t want to go with me and I didn’t believe him.” As much as he tried to stay calm he knew that he gave away how upset he was by cursing. “All those bruises on you, that video I saw, he treats you like that and you cling to him but you flinch away when I try to touch you?”

“I’m sorry. I won’t. You said I belong to you. You can touch me.” He moved his foot a little, “Just please take off the cuff.”

“I can do whatever I want to you?”

He frantically nodded his head, “And then you’ll take off the cuff?”

And for some reason Ed looked so, so sad. He shook his head hard, not looking Oswald in the face, and moved forward to unlock the restraint. Oswald watched him and once his ankle was free he pulled his knees up, wrapping his arms around them. “What do you want me to do?” His voice shook and his face was flushed. He pressed his legs tight together, even though he was offering he didn’t know if he  _ wanted _ . 

“I’m going to get you some food Ozzy. Stay here okay, don’t go anywhere.”

“You don’t want to?”

Edward didn’t answer him, just turned and left the room, shutting the door gently behind him. He watched the door without moving for long minutes, not sure if it was a trick, if he was waiting for him to let down his guard. When he was certain he was alone he looked around the room. He wasn’t sure where they were, it wasn’t Ed’s old apartment, and the only exit seemed to be the way Ed had gone. With another nervous glance towards the door he pushed to his feet, testing how he felt. He wasn’t dizzy and he was sore but it wasn’t too bad. Jerome had been right though, his backside still stung and he would feel that for awhile.

He chewed on his bottom lip as he walked around the room, wondering what Ed wanted from him. A few weeks ago he would have said Ed wanted revenge, but from the moment he had let the Riddler out of his cage it was clear he wanted something else. The Riddler hadn’t been shy about it, and he reached up to touch his lips. Even after everything his heart still hammered in his chest when he thought of kissing Ed. 

The door swung open, startling him out of his thoughts, and he stumbled backwards until he hit the wall. Ed had been smiling, doing his best to look harmless, but it slowly faded away when Oswald stayed pressed against the wall, body tense, eyes wide and fearful. 

He motioned towards the small table, “Come on, Ozzy.”

With a too quick nod he clumsily moved towards the table, hovering next to it when Ed just stood there holding food. The silence was uncomfortable and he reached out to touch the table with one hand. “Where do I sit?” He usually sat on Jerome’s right, but sometimes on the floor. Sometimes on his lap. He would do whichever, but Jerome always  _ told _ him where.

“The chair, Ozzy.” He said it like Oswald was stupid, or being intentionally difficult, mostly to hide that he was worried that it was more than that.

There were two chairs and he almost asked which one but he slid into the ones closest to him, unable to push down a flinch in case that was wrong. Nothing happened and he looked up to Ed, waiting for what to do next.

He set down the food, just a simple sandwich and chips, some fresh fruit, though he remembered from his own time in Arkham that it was a drastic improvement from the food there. Though maybe he was wrong because all Oswald did was tuck his hands into his lap and look at the food, but made no move to touch it. 

“Is something wrong, Ozzy? I can get you something else.”

Oswald looked down at the plate, he was starving, but Ed hadn’t told him to eat. And the fruit made him nervous, even though he knew that outside of Arkham it wasn’t a big deal. It didn’t mean anything. It probably wasn’t a reward, or bait. He must have taken too long to answer because Ed was already making a face and reaching to pick up the plate to take it away and Oswald whimpered.

At the sound Ed froze, “Oswald?”

“Please, I’m sorry.”

“I don’t-” Ed grit his teeth, trying to keep his temper, and watched Oswald squirm in the seat. Vaguely he wondered if sitting in the hard chair hurt, but there were other issues right now. He tried to think back over what he had said, to put together the puzzle that Oswald had become. He slowly sat back down and pulled his hand back. “I want you to eat, okay?”

“Thank you.” Oswald pulled the plate closer to him, keeping his eyes on his food as he ate, entirely oblivious to the worried look on Ed’s face.


End file.
